


Come As You Are

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cheating, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, F/M, Frenemies, Marijuana, Punk!Dean, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, adopted!reader, tattooed!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-15 08:02:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 43,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11801850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Moving to Kansas was a whole new world when you were six. But you don’t quite get along with everyone in your new town. No monsters AU with tattooed!punk!Dean.





	1. Chapter 1

Your parents were sometimes the most unbearable parents in the entire world. Not in a bad way, just in a way where they were friendly to everyone. And they obviously weren’t the worst parents, or they wouldn’t have adopted you, and later, Jessica.

But, the second the first moving box hit the porch of your new house in Lawrence, Kansas, on a hot summer day in 1984, your mom was there, offering greetings to every house around. It seemed like a friendly town, but being six, and inconsolably upset from being uprooted away from your friends, you didn’t care.

Especially when your mom expected you to make friends with the little boy next door.

John Winchester came around on the second day, with a badly made jello, that was threatening to wobble off of the plate. Your dad had instantly bonded with the man, who had brought his two sons over with him to greet the new arrivals. Dean, a sullen little blonde boy who permanently had his bottom lip stuck out, was your age, while his little brother Sammy, was only a few months older than your little sister.

You didn’t like Dean. He was quiet, and grumpy, and he didn’t want to play with the new dollhouse that your father bribed you with to be well behaved on the drive from Minnesota. It was, as far as you were concerned, the best thing ever, but Dean did not share your enthusiasm.

The visit had ended with your fathers becoming the very best of friends but as soon as the door shut, you’d made your thoughts clear.

You hated Lawrence. You hated the new house.

And you absolutely  _ hated _ Dean Winchester.


	2. Chapter 2

School started two months after your family had moved to Lawrence, and you threw yourself into it with gusto. The house had grown on you, especially since your dad had let you decorate your room however you wanted. You’d made friends with other children in the neighborhood, and those same children were in your class.

All in all, Kansas wasn’t so bad after all.

Except… Dean was in your class too. He didn’t seem to have many friends, and he didn’t seem to  _ want _ many friends either. In his solitary seat at the back of the classroom, he avoided most activities and didn’t even go outside for recess. 

That was when you heard exactly why he was such a grumpy boy.

“His mommy died,” Jenny, who lived on the next block, reliably informed you as you shared a bag of raisins with her at morning recess. “No one knows how.”“She was in a car accident.”

“That’s not what my daddy said,” a little boy interrupted, sticking his hand practically in your face as he introduced himself. “I’m Thomas.”

You blinked, unsure of this bold, larger person. He had spaghetti sauce down his “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” tee, and he was missing two of his front teeth. Hesitantly, you took his hand, feeling your entire body shake with the force of his gesture. “I’m Y/N,” you replied, retracting your fingers from his sticky grasp and wiping it on the pinafore of your dress.

“Deany’s daddy killed his mommy,” Thomas announced, plonking himself between you and Jenny, who looked at him with all the disgust a six year old could muster. “He’s a murdered.”

“Murder _ er _ ,” Jenny corrected. “And no he isn’t. Dean’s mommy died in a car accident.”

“My daddy says -”

“No one cares what your daddy says, Tommy,” Jenny interrupted, her patience wearing thin, and she elbowed the boy in the ribs, pushing him off of the small seat. “Go away.”

There were tears in Thomas’ eyes as he got to his feet, and his bottom lip wobbled for a few seconds. “You’re a meanie, Jenny!” You tried not to giggle as Jenny stuck her tongue out, and Thomas turned on his heel, running back to his friend.

“He’s a stupidhead,” your friend muttered, going back to the raisins.

You weren’t sure what it meant back then, but as you grew up, it became obvious that Jenny was wise beyond her years.

*****

The math textbook bounced as your sister landed on the bed, a big smile on her face, and you spared her little more than a glance before finding your page again. “Guess what?” With an exasperated sigh, you waited, knowing Jess would tell you whatever it was if you guessed or not. “Sam asked me to Junior formal.”

“Well that was a given,” you pointed out, still not looking at her. “You two have been dating since kindergarten.”

“Eww,” your sister replied, rolling onto her back and stretching her arms out. “We totally haven’t.”

They had. Since Jess had been able to walk, Sam had been following her around, both of them making the most disgusting moon eyes at each other. If ever there were a pair meant to be, it was Sam and Jess. Placing your pen in the spine of your book, you gave up on studying, sitting up and crossing your legs.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, little sis?” you asked, poking her in the side, prompting giggles. “And the oh-so-obvious news.”

“I haven’t seen you in days,” she moaned, snatching at your hand to stop you tickling her. “You’re always studying and being smart.”

“Oh like you aren’t.”

Jessica pouted. “Come on, Y/N. All you do is read and draw.”

You shrugged. “Some of us wanna go to college.”

“Some of us wanna see you with a boy,” Jess replied, taunting you, and you made a face. It wasn’t like you hadn’t dated. But boys were… boys. “You haven’t been out with anyone since that awful creep Kevin last year.”

“Guess what put me off?” you chirped, climbing off of the bed and crossing the room. 

“What about Dean?”

The mention of his name made you pause, and you shuddered, trying  _ not _ to think of Dean. There was absolutely no denying that the elder Winchester brother was drop dead gorgeous, despite the increasing number of tattoos and piercings, and the shockingly bright green hair he’d turned up to study hall with last week… but…

He was still Dean Winchester.

The animosity had never gone away between the two of you. Through elementary school, junior high and into senior year, Dean had been the rebellious punk, the ladies’ man, bringing home a different girl every week. You were part of… well, you weren’t a part of any group. Jenny was your best friend, but you didn’t really belong anywhere. Everyone was an acquaintance, someone you knew, or hung out with occasionally. Jess was the polar opposite of you; bright, bubbly, loved by all. Not that you weren’t loved, not at all, but you didn’t mind being out of the limelight in the slightest.

“Dean is an ass,” you replied, flinging a clean shirt at your sister where she was still lounging on the bed. “And I wouldn’t look twice at him.”

Jessica giggled loudly, clutching the shirt to her chest. “Lisa says she’s going to ask him to prom.”

You made a disgusted noise, rolling your eyes. “Lisa Braeden has slept with half the football team. I doubt Dean would look twice at her.”

“You jealous?” Your sister’s eyebrows wiggled in an irritating manner, and you scoffed, looking affronted at the comment. “Come on, you know you like him a little bit. Even if he did get a tattoo of a skull done on his butt.”

“That’s a rumor,” you replied. “And Dean Winchester can stick his dick wherever he likes, I don’t give a fuck.”

“Y/N Y/L/N!” Your mother’s shocked voice sounded louder than it was in your bedroom, and the color drained from your face, horror taking hold of your expression as you realized you’d just been busted cursing,  _ and _ talking about your neighbor’s son’s penis. “I thought I raised you better than that!”

Jessica was laughing so hard, you thought she might pee herself, and you scowled, unhappy at being busted by your mom for your language. It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard you curse before - the mild words like “hell”, “bitch” or something - but she’d literally washed your mouth out for saying “shit” once, and now… 

God, you hated the taste of soap.

Your mom’s stern face was focused on you, but Jessica’s laughter drew her attention for a second, which prompted the younger girl to dart from the room, long blonde hair flowing behind her. You sighed, sinking down into your dresser seat. “What is it with you and that boy?”

Confusion clouded your expression as the older woman took a seat on the edge of your bed, giving you a stern look. Swallowing nervously, you gripped the edge of your chair with your fingers.

“What boy?”

“Dean Winchester. There’s been nothing but animosity between you from day one.” You shrugged, avoiding her gaze, and your mom sighed. “Sweetheart, Dean is a very sweet boy. He’s always so polite, despite the… well, you know.” She gestured to her arms, and you had to hold back a twinge of a smile at her disapproval of tattoos. Mrs Y/L/N was quite refined, not religiously so, but she probably would have rung your neck if you’d come home with tattoos like Dean did on a regular basis. “I don’t understand why you and him can’t… at least be friends.”

You couldn’t help but pout, irritated by your mother sticking her nose in. But you kind of understood where she was coming from. In all honesty, you couldn’t tell her what it was about Dean that rubbed you the wrong way; you just didn’t like each other.

When you didn’t answer, or give her any sort of verbal acknowledgement, your mom stood up, shaking her head.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter. You’re going to be leaving for college soon.” She sounded sad, and you frowned, tipping your head to one side.

“Mom… I’ll make an effort. Okay?”

A soft smile tugged at her lips. “That’s all I ask, darling,” she whispered, bending to kiss your forehead. “You are a very special girl. Even if you have an unusual obsession with fictional characters.”

“Says the woman who named her goldfish Gandalf and Frodo,” you replied, teasing her.


	3. Chapter 3

Senior year was nearly over. The entire school was decorated with streamers, proclaiming that Senior Prom was coming, and everyone was buzzing with excitement. As the day drew closer, Jenny managed to hook herself a date with Tim Stewart and hadn’t stopped talking about her dress since her mom had bought it.

You, on the other hand, hadn’t bought a dress, didn’t have a date and prom seemed like a complete waste of time. It also happened to clash with a show you were heavily invested in, even though it was only the first season.

All of this, however, paled in comparison to the fact that you were graduating in less than a week, and leaving home to go to college. Your mom was a wreck, your dad couldn’t stop boasting about how proud he was, and Jessica had been bombarding you with questions, including “can I have your room?”. It was terrifying, exhausting, and…

Prom was the furthest thing from your mind.

So when Benny, the fullback for Lawrence High, asked you suddenly, in the middle of your last chemistry lesson, whether you would go with him, you struggled to come up with a reason to say no. He’d caught you unawares, and for a brief moment, you had flashes of “Carrie” happening. The popular boys never spoke to you, and as far as you were concerned, didn’t know you existed, which was the best way to be. But Benny seemed genuine, and Jenny’s eyes caught yours as you gaped like a fish and tried to think of some way to refuse.

As it turned out, you couldn’t think of one and gave him a desperate smile, nodding your acceptance.

Jenny’s high pitched squeal may have burst your eardrums. “Oh my god! That’s Benny Lafitte!”

“Yes, I’m well aware, Jenn,” you replied drolly, shaking your head as you packed away your books. There hadn’t been much learning in chemistry - finals were done, and now, it was just playing out the last few days of the semester.

You couldn’t miss that Dean hadn’t bothered to turn up for the last two days. Most likely he was helping his dad at the garage. Not that you’d watched him leave in that sleek black beauty of a classic every morning.

“He’s gorgeous. And he’s on the football team!”

“Is it a trick, you think?” you asked, hesitant about what you’d agreed to, but Jenny shook her head.

“Y/N, he’s been staring at you across the hall for months.” Her cheeks were bright red. “He actually asked me what your favorite flower is.”

“He did?” You were surprised at the shock in your voice. Did you really think of yourself as that unattractive?

Jenny continued to babble on, explaining that she’d told him that you loved lilies, and describing a dress she’d seen that would look amazing on you. You listened halfheartedly, following her down the corridor towards study hall, moving past the few students still lingering in the halls.

Turning the corner, you froze as you came face to face with Dean Winchester and Lisa Braeden, up against the lockers, apparently trying to devour each other. She was making noises that were worthy of a barn, and you screwed your nose up in disgust.

“Ew,” Jenny exclaimed, moving herself around them like they had the plague. “Get a room.”

Dean pulled his head away, leaving Lisa panting, lipstick smeared across her swollen mouth. His eyes met yours for the briefest of seconds, before you mimicked Jenny and walked away, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart at catching him like that with Lisa. It physically hurt your neck not to look back, but if you had seen them kiss again, you might have vomited.

Jenny took your arm, squeezing it with her fingers. “I guess she asked him.”

You shrugged, not saying anything in return. You didn’t care what Dean Winchester did.

Not in the slightest.

*****

“I’m nervous,” you whispered, hearing the door chime just as your mother finished putting your hair into a princess style bun. The dress was a deep blue, and fitted you just like Jenny said it would. But now that prom was here, and you were going, you couldn’t calm the butterflies in your stomach.

“You’re gonna be just fine,” your mom replied, patting your shoulder. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, mom.”

Standing up, you heard the front door open, and your dad’s voice boomed through the house, followed by Jessica’s giggles. She had Sam over for a movie night with your parents while you were at prom, as John was out of town for the weekend, so the youngest Winchester needed somewhere to go.

“Now, young man. I have a shotgun and a shovel.” Your dad was joking, but from the look on Benny’s face as you came down the stairs, it wasn’t going down very well. “Make sure I don’t have to use them.”

“Yessir,” Benny replied, the tremor in his voice obvious, and you cleared your throat, attracting the men’s attention. Jessica squealed loudly, clapping her hands together, as your dad’s expression softened, and Benny’s eyes went wide. “Wow, Y/N, you look -” he glanced at your father, “really pretty.”

Your dad grinned, nudging Benny with his arm. “You can do better than that, son.”

Descending the last few steps, you stood in front of your date and gave a little curtsey. The fullback grinned, handing you the corsage he’d brought - a sky blue lily to match your dress, and you blushed. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, looking so genuine, that you allowed your heart to soar.

“Back by eleven?” your dad asked, and Benny gave him a salute, standing straight. You simply rolled your eyes, and stretched up to peck your father on the cheek. “Have fun!” he whispered, and you nodded, before glancing at your mom, who was on the verge of tears.

Benny had driven over in his dad’s Buick, a classic for sure, but not as nice as the Impala next door. Which was missing, you noticed, stepping down onto the front path with Benny’s arm hooked through yours. He opened the car door for you, being the perfect gentleman, and even managed to stick to the speed limit the whole way through town.

Arriving at the prom, the only spaces available were at the back of the parking lot, and it had started to drizzle softly. Benny quickly pulled his jacket off, using it to shelter you as he guided you towards the gymnasium, and before you crossed into the building, you spotted the Impala, sitting across the lot.

There was a hand pressed against the window, and the car was rocking, ever so slightly.

Making a face, you put it out of your mind, letting Benny lead you inside. Photos were taken, and you were almost immediately jumped by Jenny and her date.

As you’d expected… prom was boring. After a few dances, and the least stimulating conversation ever with Benny, you were about ready to go home, but Jenny persuaded you to give it one more go. 

“Y/N, you haven’t given him a chance. He’s probably nervous.”

You sighed, staring at yourself in the reflection of the dirty bathroom mirror, wondering if all the makeup your mom had layered on you would come off. It didn’t even look like you, not really. Dresses and makeup and pretty things weren’t your style - you’d kill for a pair of jeans and a big shirt right now.

“Seriously, you look amazing,” Jenny reassured, smiling at your reflection. “This is the only prom we get; just try and have fun?”

With a reluctant nod, you smiled at your best friend, before turning towards the door. As you reached for the handle, it slammed open, almost taking you off your feet as Lisa Braeden tumbled through, obviously intoxicated. She paused as she realized you were in the way, before smiling at you sweetly.

“Y/N!” she exclaimed, and you tried to keep the scowl of your face. “Don’t you look lovely?” The door was wide open as she leaned on it, and you spotted Dean lingering just outside, waiting for her. Your eyes met his for a moment, before Lisa dragged your attention back to her. “And you caught yourself a fullback! How nice.”

Jenny came to your side, glaring at the other girl. “Lisa. I see you went for all cleavage.”

Lisa shrugged. “If you got it, flaunt it. Besides,” her leer turned on you. “ _ Dean _ likes his women with a little cleavage.” Your scowl broke through, and you made a noise, moving to push past her. Dean stepped back out of your way, avoiding eye contact and for a second, you hoped he was ashamed of the girl he’d chosen to spend his prom with.

“Just ignore her,” Jenny whispered, barely audible above the music.

“Hey, Y/N!” Lisa called, and you couldn’t help it - you turned to face her. “You should make sure Benny gets what he wants tonight.” Several students were staring now, and you could feel your cheeks heating in embarrassment. Benny appeared around the corner, wondering where you’d gotten to, and froze at the scene. The brunette bitch smirked, folding her arms over her chest. “Wouldn’t him to dump you like your parents did.”

Shame and anger coursed through you, and you felt tears threaten your composure. Everyone was staring, and you felt like they were laughing. Poor little adopted Y/N, the outcast, the loser. The invisible girl. A hand landed on your shoulder, but you didn’t pay any attention, you were too focused on the cruel twisted smile on Lisa’s face.

And then… Dean was there.

Green eyes blazing, he shoved Lisa backwards, not enough to hurt her, but enough to know she’d gone too far. “Shut your mouth, Lisa.”

“Dean!” she squawked, the satisfaction on her expression turning to anger. “What the fuck?”

“You know, you were a good lay, but you’re a fucking awful person. Maybe Y/N is luckier than the rest of us. Her parents  _ chose _ her. Yours were just stuck with you.” His words rang clear as the music stopped to change songs, and you wanted to sink into the floor. Lisa was fuming, cheeks red, eyes blaring, and a split second later, there was the sound of palm meeting cheek as she slapped Dean hard across the face, before disappearing into the bathroom.

The drama was over, and the students all returned to what they were doing. You wanted to approach Dean, say thank you, but Benny’s hands were pulling you away, back towards the dance floor.

“You okay?” he asked, you nodded, feeling numb. “Come on, let’s dance.”

There wasn’t anything you could do except go with it. For three songs, you clung to Benny, allowing him to guide you around the floor, giving him fake smiles, and wishing you could feel more when he complimented you.

The first notes of a piano started the fourth song, and you pulled back, just as someone placed a hand on Benny’s shoulder. It was like slow motion, looking to see who the arm belonged to, finding it attached to none other than Dean. For the first time that night, you looked at him, seeing how smart he looked.

“Mind if I have this dance?” he asked, directing the question at Benny, but keeping his eyes on you.

Benny hesitated, glancing to you, and you nodded, releasing him. The fullback excused himself, moving away as Dean stepped into his place, taking your left hand, and slipping his left around your waist.

_ I will never find another lover sweeter than you, sweeter than you _

_ And I will never find another lover more precious than you, more precious than you _

“I hate this song,” Dean chuckled, leaning in close, and you smiled a little, noticing the tattoos peeking out from underneath the collar of his suit. His hair was a slight shade of blue, almost enhancing the multitude of greens in his eyes, and you found yourself captivated by him. “I’m sorry about Lisa.”

Well, there was one way to crash a moment. You swallowed, the smile on your face a little less enthusiastic. “It’s okay. She’s a bitch, and you have awful taste.”

He laughed at that, nodding. “Yeah, I do.”

Both of you were silent for a few moments, leaning into each other as you swayed together across the dancefloor. For a second, it felt like it was only you and him in the room, but of course, you had to open your mouth and ruin it. “Why did you do that?” you asked, voice barely loud enough to hear the question over the music. “Say that to Lisa.”

Dean shrugged. “Family doesn’t end with blood. And I guess… well, you’re my neighbor. And you’re probably gonna end up being my sister-in-law, seeing as Sammy’s already got the honeymoon planned.”

Allowing yourself a small laugh, you relaxed into him, feeling a small pang of sadness when the song ended. “Y/N?” Dean’s voice had a tone to it that you’d never heard before, and you looked up, meeting his eyes expectantly. “I wanted to -”

“Y/N, it’s ten thirty,” Benny said, popping up from nowhere and interrupting the other boy. Dean’s face settled into a scowl, and you felt a flash of anger at the possibly not-so-oblivious football player. He grinned, holding out his hand. “I promised your dad I’d have you back by eleven.”

“I can take her home,” Dean offered, earning himself a dirty look from Benny.

“No offense, Winchester, but she’s my date.”

You could see Dean tense, ready to throw a punch, and you quickly intervened, shaking your head. “Dean, it’s fine. Benny did promise my dad.” Pausing, you laid your hand on his bicep, feeling him flinch a little. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

His jaw clenched, his eyes still on Benny, who glared back. “Yeah. Whatever.”

The cold tone made you snatch your hand back, and you turned away, leaving with Benny. A chaste kiss in the front seat of his dad’s Buick was the end of the date, and you sank into bed that night with an unusual feeling in your stomach.

It was gone when you woke up.


	4. Chapter 4

Black caps flew into the air, accompanying the cheer of the gathered crowd, and you turned, a wide smile on your face as your mom and dad approached, Jess tailing behind them with Sam. Almost instantly, the flash of a camera filled your vision with little blue dots, and you waved a hand in front of your face.

“Congratulations, sweetheart!” your mom shrilled, enveloping you in a hug that may have killed you if she’d not released you after a few seconds. “We are so proud of you.”

“It’s just high school, mom,” you replied, ducking your head in embarrassment.

Your dad scoffed, shaking his head. “Not just high school. The start of the rest of your life!” His gaze moved past you, and his smile went a little wider. “John! Dean!” You turned automatically, before freezing at the sight of Dean and his dad. John had never looked so proud, while Dean just looked embarrassed to be seen in the black graduation robes. “Congratulations!” Your dad snapped a picture of the teenager, who scowled at the camera.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head a little. “Dean, cheer up. High school is over!”

Dean huffed, shrugging as John punched him lightly in the arm. “Don’t worry about this one, Y/N. He’s got his future all mapped out.”

“Are you going to college?” your mom asked, and you glared at her. “What? Just asking. He’s a bright lad.”

“Nah, college… not for me,” Dean replied, his demeanor returning to his usual sulk. “I’m gonna be helping Dad at the garage. Family business and all. Sammy’s the one with the brains here.”

“Shut up,” Sam grumbled, as Jessica leaned into him. “I like school.”

“Nerd.”

“That’s enough, boys,” John warned, his good-natured tone making the boys grin. “We’re off out for dinner. Nothing too upscale, probably over to Biggersons? The boys and I would like to extend the invitation.”

Your mom clapped her hands together, looking over at her husband with raised eyebrows, and Jessica squealed. “That sounds like a fantastic idea,” your dad grinned, nodding. “Unless you kids had anything else planned?”

The prospect of your evening binging old VHS and planning your extra-curricular activities at APU were suddenly dashed as you struggled to say no to both of your parent’s beaming faces. Dean chuckled, his eyes meeting yours as he somehow managed to answer for you both. “I’ve got nothing planned.”

“Brilliant!” John boomed, clapping his son on the back.

Dinner went remarkably well, although you sat yourself as far away from Dean as possible, avoiding eye contact with him. The memory of your dance at the prom had haunted you since the second it had happened, and you weren’t even going to entertain the rather NSFW dreams you’d had about him.

Naturally, your dad ordered the biggest, chocolatiest dessert on the menu, and as it was brought out, Sam decided to ask you about the college you’d chosen.

“Phoenix U,” you replied, eyeing the massive chocolate dish with worry. The stomach ache it would cause was already forming as your portion was shovelled onto a plate.

“You didn’t want to stay in town?” Sam asked, frowning down at his own portion. Jess was already happily tucking in - she’d always been able to eat what she wanted and stay skinny as a rail. 

“Y/N is all set for independence,” your mother quipped, sounding like she was going to cry, and you weren’t sure if she was joking. “Ready to go off into the world and escape this one Starbucks town.”

“Mom,” you chided, giving her a sideways look. “You know I’ll be back. Holidays, weekends, whenever I can. I’m gonna miss everyone.”

Jess grinned at you slyly, leaning on her elbows. “Even Dean?” She yelped as you aimed your foot at her shin and kicked hard, making her scowl. Dean looked up from his pudding, his eyes meeting yours across the table.

“Even Dean,” you said, and he smiled back, making your stomach do a little flip. The clapping of your dad’s hands made you jump, and he stood up, holding aloft his glass of Pepsi.

“A toast. To our awesome children!”

*****

Lawrence took a backseat in your life as you flew through college. You still went home for the holidays, but whenever you were there, you felt unsettled, and eventually, visits dwindled to once a year. Of course, you kept contact via phone, and eventually email, and your dad even managed to help you get a job with his company, albeit in Phoenix, where you’d laid firm roots.

Jenny had moved out East, and after college, she’d gone into nursing. You wrote each other every week, and lately, her photos had included pictures of a rapidly growing bump. It seemed like everyone was moving on with their lives, and you were…

Well, you were happy. You had a good job, a great one even, and you’d been dating a nice guy for around six months. It wasn’t the great romance that novels were made of, but he was sweet, and kind, and he had a good career with good prospects.

It was steady.

Not boring. At all.

When the phone rang one Wednesday evening, you were partially deafened by your little sister squealing down the phone. She was calling from Stanford, where her and Sam had gone to the same college, still following each other around. If anyone got the fairytale relationship, it was Jessica.

“He asked me to marry him!” she screamed, and you held the phone a little way away from your ear, smiling at her excitement.

“Congratulations!” you replied, wishing you could feel that kind of excitement about anything in your life. Adam wasn’t rushing to pop the question to you, and you had a feeling if he did, you wouldn’t be calling your sister to shout about it down the phone. “Did you call Mom and Dad?”

“I did!” Jessica said, her tone decreasing in volume. “Mom is over the moon. Dad is sulking that he wasn’t there, but Sam did ask him for my hand first.”

You shifted on the couch, reaching to turn the television off. “How romantic.”

“Oh, Y/N, he was so sweet. He baked me cookies, and in the middle of one, he’d put the ring. It was a little sticky, so we had to wash it, but it’s perfect! A real diamond too!” Oh yes, Sam always was the knight in shining armor. “You know you have to be my maid of honor, right?”

“What about Seline?” you asked, frowning. Seline had been Jess’ best friend for as long as you could remember, although she’d decided to move to New York for school. “Isn’t she -”

“Seline and I haven’t spoken in months, Y/N,” Jess informed you, making your frown deepen. “Didn’t I tell you that?”

Honestly, you couldn’t remember. Life had become routine, and you’d gotten so caught up in work, actual life had taken a little bit of a back seat. “You probably did. I guess… I’m sorry, Jess. I’ve just been so busy -”

“Hey, it’s okay,” your sister soothed, and you could hear her soft smile in her tone. “Life is busy, I know that. But hey, I would have had you as my maid of honor anyway. You’re my best friend, always have been.”

You couldn’t help the swell of love for your sister in your chest, and you blushed, picking at a loose thread on your pyjama bottoms. “I would be honored to accept. Who did Sam ask to be best man?”

“He hasn’t asked him yet, but it’s going to be Dean. You know he wouldn’t have anyone else.” Jess sucked in a breath. “You gonna be okay walking down the aisle with him?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked, shrugging despite the other woman not being able to see. “I haven’t seen him in years. I mean, didn’t he shack up with Lisa Braeden in the end? Last I heard, she was pregnant.” There was a delicate hum from your sister on the other end, and you sat up straight. “Am I missing gossip?”

“Dean and Lisa split up. I don’t think they had a great relationship anyway. Sam said Dean was with her because… well, we don’t know but he didn’t seem happy. And as it turned out, she’d been seeing a guy in Kansas City. The baby was his.”

Your face fell. “Oh. Poor Dean.”

“He didn’t seem too bothered, but you know what Dean is like.” Jess sighed. “He’s so…”

“Grumpy?”

“I was gonna say lonely.”

Silence fell on the line, interspersed by a slight crackling. Your mind wandered to the elder Winchester brother, remembering how he looked years ago when you’d last seen him, the day before you’d left for Phoenix.

_ “Excited?”  _

_ Dean’s voice made you turn, a smile on your face at the new adventure you were about to embark on. “Yeah. A little,” you shrugged, shutting the trunk of your little car. “How about you?” _

_ “Not much of an adventure for me. Just better pay.” His smirk was endearing, and you leaned back against the vehicle, folding your arms over your chest as Dean shuffled awkwardly. “How comes we were never friends, Y/N?” _

_ The question caught you by surprise and your arms dropped to your sides as you stared at him. “Er… I…” _

_ “I mean, I know I’m a little… odd,” he chuckled, “but I’m not a bad person.” _

_ “I never said you were,” you replied coolly, frowning. “I guess we just never really… clicked.” _

_ “Is it because I didn’t like your dollhouse?” he asked, being entirely serious, although his lips twitched in the hint of a smile. “Because it was a nice dollhouse. I was just being, you know, a dude.” _

_ He remembered that? Your first meeting, over a decade ago, your irritation that he hadn’t appreciate the bright pink Barbie dream house? That was a long distant memory. And he had held onto it. _

_ “It wasn’t because of that,” you assured him, smiling. “We’re just different people, Dean.” _

_ Watching you for a second, Dean slowly nodded, his smile returning. “Maybe. Still. Thanks for the dance at prom.” He made to turn away, before stopping and looking back at you. “You really did look beautiful that night. Benny was a lucky guy.”  _

_ You shook your head. “Benny didn’t even make it to first base,” you giggled, moving to walk around the car, hearing Dean’s answering laugh, but almost missing his reply. _

_ “I’m glad of that. He didn’t deserve someone as good as you.” _

You hadn’t seen him since that day. Of course, Jess passed on the gossip, and your mom managed her fair share. Dean had made his father’s business even more successful than before, and when you’d heard that he was back with Lisa, you’d decided you didn’t want to hear any more. You’d never liked the woman, and hated her all the more for her spiteful comments at prom.

There was no point denying that you were happy to hear she was out of Dean’s life, but sad for what he’d been through.

“So, when are you home?” Jess asked, distracting you from your train of thought. “I mean, we’ve got a year to plan, but I’d like to get dresses and everything sorted out soon.”

“Of course,” you replied, smiling brightly, putting Dean Winchester out of your thoughts. “What were you thinking?”


	5. Chapter 5

**May 2007**

“Y/N!”

The call of your mother’s voice made you smile, and you pushed up on tiptoes, waving wildly and almost falling with your suitcase behind you. Rushing over, you fell into her arms, hugging her tightly. “I’ve missed you!” you declared, feeling tears in your eyes.

“Where’s Adam?” she asked, frowning at the lack of boyfriend by your side.

Guilt assaulted you, and you shrugged. “He had to work. They wouldn’t give him the time off, and I didn’t wanna push it -”

“That’s a shame,” your mom said. “I was looking forward to meeting him.”

“Maybe next time,” you said, smiling at her. “Anyway, is Jess excited?”

“That’s one word for it,” your dad grunted, approaching and taking your suitcase from your hold. “Unbearable? That’s another word.”

You laughed, shaking your head as your mom hooked her arm through yours, moving through the airport crowds.

It was a short drive home, and the sight of your old childhood home made you a little nostalgic. Over the last year, you’d been home three times at Jess’ request, for fittings, tastings, and the bridal shower. Your life in Phoenix had started to become stale, and you were almost longing for a little bit of excitement.

As your dad pulled the car into the drive, you spotted Dean’s Impala outside the Winchester house, and you leaned forward, tapping your mom’s shoulder. “Did Dean move home?”

“Yeah,” your mom replied, looking a little sad. “John hasn’t been well. We… we didn’t want to say anything over the phone.”

“Oh,” you replied, sinking back into your seat for a moment, waiting for your dad to turn off the engine. Climbing out, he took your cases from the trunk, carrying them into the house as you stood in the front yard, staring at the house next door. “I’m surprised Dean never settled down,” you muttered, and your mom shrugged as she passed.

“I don’t think he ever met the right girl.”

The statement carried a tone you didn’t quite recognize, and you frowned at your mom before following her into the house. Jess was there, on the phone, arguing with someone about flower arrangements as Sam sat at the kitchen counter with a beer. He stood up as you walked in, pulling you into an embrace. The youngest Winchester was a far cry from the small, gangly teen he had been - he towered over you at over six feet, with a mane of shaggy hair and those devastatingly handsome Winchester looks.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Sam,” you greeted, pulling back from him to smile widely. “Sure you wanna marry my crazy sister?”

He laughed, nodding and glancing at Jess, who gave you a little wave, before resuming her argument with who you assumed was the florist on the phone. “Absolutely.”

You shrugged, moving past him. “You’re a brave man.” Perching yourself on the island, you leaned back as your mom poured a cup of coffee. Jess ended her phone call with a huff, slamming the phone back into the cradle and glaring at it. “Everything okay?”

“They messed up the orchids. Neon pink! I ordered baby pink.”

“Does it matter?” your dad asked, only to regret it as Jess turned on him. He held his hands up at her furious expression, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Your little sister had turned into somewhat of a bridezilla.

“Yes, it matters!” she started, but Sam was there, wrapping his arms around his bride-to-be, soothing her anger. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m just… so nervous.”

“Hey, it’s fine. Look, why don’t we head out for a little something to eat. Y/N probably wants to sleep after her flight.” He tilted her chin up to look into her eyes, and for a moment, you felt jealous of the perfect relationship your sister had - your romance read like a Dr Seuss book rather than the sweeping Jane Austen like love they shared. “I’ll take you to that little Italian place you like, yeah?”

Jessica practically beamed, nodding at him, and you sighed, turning on your stool to lean on the counter. Within a few minutes, the happy couple had left the house, and your dad had retreated to his study to “work”, which was code for “watching hockey”. Your mom placed a cup of coffee in front of you, smiling gently.

“You okay, honey?”

With a weary nod, you mustered a smile for her, taking the coffee gratefully. “Yeah, mom. I’m just tired.”

“Is that it?”

For a moment, you wanted to break open, to tell your mom how you felt like you’d failed yourself. Okay, your job was going well, and you were deputy manager of the entire design department now, but among the other parts of your life… it felt like you were rapidly approaching thirty with nothing to show for it.

The moment passed, and you reignited your smile, nodding. “That’s it, mom. Honest.”

*****

Three days until the wedding, and the extended Winchester family descended on the house next door. You’d never met many of them but they seemed like a friendly and exuberant bunch. They certainly liked drinking, and apparently parties, as it didn’t seem like they’d stopped since they had gotten into town.

Sam’s maternal grandparents, Samuel and Deanna Campbell, had brought the rest of their brood, along with John’s parents, Henry Winchester, who was a sturdy old chap, and his mother, who seemed to spend most of her time scolding her husband for sneaking food he wasn’t supposed to eat.

The wedding was on the Saturday afternoon, and by the Thursday evening, you were done with dress fittings and rehearsal dinners. As soon as supper was finished, you escaped the house, going as far as the backyard, where the old tree house you had as a kid still stood. Climbing up the rickety old ladder, you were shocked to find that your old hiding place was already occupied.

Dean sat, a cigarette in one hand, and a beer in the other, leaning against the back wall and staring out of the window. He turned his head to look at you as you climbed in, crossing your legs to settle against the opposite wall.

“Too many people?” you asked, and he smiled, nodding. “Yeah, me too. Weddings seem… stressful.”

“Plenty of beer though,” he commented, raising his in your direction. A giggle left your lips, and you drew your knees up to your chest, sighing heavily. “Something wrong?”

“I kinda miss Lawrence,” you admitted, looking out of the door towards your house, staring at the lit up windows.

“Phoenix too hot for ya?” Dean teased, and you shook your head, looking over at him. “Seriously though, why would you miss Lawrence?”

“Can’t be too bad,” you said, “seeing as you stayed here.”

Dean’s mouth set into a thin line, and he took a drag of his cigarette, before holding it out to you. Upon closer inspection, you realised it was a joint, and you raised an eyebrow. “Live a little, Y/N. I know you were always a good girl, but -”

“You sound as if I never did anything bad in my life. Is it pot or weed?”

He chuckled, blowing out a thin plume of smoke from between his sinfully plump lips. “Weed. Pot is too harsh. This stuff gives you a real nice chill.” Hesitating for the briefest of seconds, you scooted yourself over to his side, taking the joint and inhaling it deeply. You coughed, smoke billowing out from your nose as you tried to regain your composure. Dean was laughing, shaking his head. “Been awhile, huh?”

“College,” you rasped, looking at the white stick between your fingers. “Wasn’t as strong as this, either.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he assured you, leaning his head back against the wall. “Weddings are definitely crazy. But Sammy’s a lucky guy. Jessica is an amazing girl.” His eyes closed as he grinned. “Must be a family thing.”

You inhaled another lungful of smoke, before giving him a sideways look. “Did you just say I was amazing?”

He shrugged, not opening his eyes, but the smile on his face was sly, and you couldn’t help the butterflies that suddenly swarmed in your belly, reminiscent of the feeling you’d had when you danced with him that one night so long ago.

“You realize,” he started, eyes still closed, “we’ve known each other for twenty years?”

“Twenty years in two weeks,” you replied, taking another hit off of the joint, before nudging him with your elbow and passing it back. “I remember the day we moved here. Your dad is still crap at jello, by the way.”

Dean laughed, taking the joint from you, and you found your eyes glued to his mouth as he placed the roach between his lips, sucking on the stick delicately, his throat working to take the smoke down. Heat blossomed in your belly, incinerating the butterflies.

“Sam said you had a guy now,” he commented, not looking at you as he spoke. “I thought you flew in alone?”

You bristled, still a little unhappy with the way things had been between you and Adam when you parted. He had been perfectly able to get the time off work, but he said he wasn’t comfortable with weddings, especially when he hadn’t met your family. Apparently, you’d sprung it on him like some sort of surprise, which wasn’t true at all. “He had to work. Busy guy.”

“That’s a shame,” Dean muttered. “Wouldn’t have minded meeting him. You know, make sure he’s good enough for you and all.”

“Is that why you cut into my dance with Benny at prom?” Your voice was quiet as you spoke, and Dean’s mouth pulled upwards into a smirk. “I never thought of you as chivalrous, Dean Winchester.” He didn’t reply, and for a few moments, both of you sat in silence. When he offered you the joint again, you took it, enjoying the calm, almost floating feeling that it was giving you.

“I wish I’d asked you to prom.”

His murmured words took you by surprise, and you looked at him with raised eyebrows. “What?”

“I wish I’d asked you to prom,” he repeated, keeping his eyes focused on the wall ahead. “You looked so beautiful. I think… when I heard you were leaving for Phoenix, I felt like someone had ripped my chest open.” The sigh he gave was heavy, and you simply stared, unsure of what he was admitting to you. “Sorry. Guess I’m feeling a little introspective.”

You swallowed, looking at the joint, before taking another drag. “It’s okay.”

“Are we friends now?” Dean asked, his words a whisper, and you smiled, handing the joint back to him.

“Yeah, we are.”

“Good.”

Silence took hold again, filled only by the sounds coming from the Winchester house. Cheers and laughter made you smile, and without thinking, you leaned into Dean, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re still here,” you whispered. “Makes me feel like everything is how it was.”

“Is that a good thing?” he asked. “Some things have changed.”

“Yeah, you got more tattoos,” you teased, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt where it was rolled up to his elbow. “And more holes.”

Dean chuckled, nodding. “I got a really nice dragon piece done on my leg.”

You yawned, shifting against him. “You’ll have to show me later. Fuck, I’m tired. Jess has had me running around so much this week. Wake me up if I doze off. I don’t wanna go back in just yet.”

“No problem,” Dean replied, pushing himself up and lifting his arm to curl it around your shoulders. You settled against his chest, hearing his heartbeat beneath the thin material of his black shirt, allowing the scent of the joint and beer to comfort you.

Within moments you were out cold.


	6. Chapter 6

Sunlight woke you, and you turned, feeling a hard body at your back. A coat was folded underneath your head, and you realized you were still in the treehouse, and the warm body against yours was Dean. Turning slowly, you came face to face with him, wondering how on earth he wasn’t uncomfortable with his arm lodged underneath his head.

He looked so peaceful, relaxed and boyish in his sleep, despite the tattoos that crept up his neck, the gauges in his ears and the bar through his eyebrow. You noticed that he’d removed the lip piercing that he’d paraded proudly as a teenager, in favour of the stubble that coated his chin and cheeks.

Dean Winchester was still one handsome bastard.

His eyes opened, focusing on you, and this close, you could see the brown flecks amongst the green, giving them an almost otherworldly quality, and a smile crossed his face. “You okay?” he asked, and you nodded, not making any attempt to move. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he explained.

“It’s fine,” you breathed, feeling like a teenager who’d snuck out for the night. He was so close to you, and so warm…

“You’re beautiful in the mornings too,” he whispered.

“Not so bad yourself.”

The air between you seemed charged, and before you knew what was happening, Dean was leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It was like a dream, and you moaned against him, not protesting as he pulled you closer…

Adam popped into your head like a screaming reminder. You shot back from Dean like you’d been electrocuted, and he stared at you in confusion. “Dean, I… I have a boyfriend… I can’t…” Scrambling to your feet, you shook your head, moving around him towards the door. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -”

“No, don’t be. It’s my fault.” He was sitting up now, looking calmer than you felt. “It never happened, okay?”

Your foot was on the top step of the ladder, and you paused, looking at him with a leaden weight in your stomach. God, you wanted to go back ten minutes, forget you had a boyfriend, forget about your life in Phoenix… but you couldn’t.

“Never happened,” you agreed. “I’ll, er, see you… later.” You couldn’t get down the ladder quick enough, retreating into your house without looking back.

*****

Tears filled your eyes as you walked into the room, seeing Jessica stood in her beautiful ivory wedding dress, the veil pulled back over her perfectly arranged hair. She was much taller than you now, especially in the beautiful heels she’d selected to go with her dress, and you gratefully accepted the tissue your mother passed you, in order to wipe away your tears before they destroyed your makeup.

“You look so beautiful,” you whispered, choking up a little.

“Don’t cry!” Jess ordered, shaking a finger at you, although the smile on her face was indicative of her own tears. “None of us can cry until after the photos!”

“My darling girls.” Your mom’s arms came around you, gathering you both to her. “I’m so proud of both of you.” It was unclear why she was proud of you, but there wasn’t any doubt of her pride in Jess. Your sister was marrying a wonderful man, and had an amazing career ahead of her.

But it wasn’t your day. It was Jessica and Sam’s day (mostly Jessica’s), and you were going to enjoy it, come hell or high water. Even if it meant facing Dean after the kiss-that-never-happened.

“We need to get going,” called your dad, and all three of you rushed for the door, Jessica squeezing through first as you grabbed up the small train of her dress, assisting her down the stairs. Outside the house, your dad stood with the limo door open, dressed in a tailored grey suit, his beard neatly trimmed for a change, and his smile wide. “There she is,” he greeted, bowing his head. “Both my beautiful daughters.”

Jessica went bright red, before climbing into the car, and you followed, tucking her dress in behind her. Your dad leaned in, offering you his hand to get in.

“Your turn next,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes, not giving him a reply. You bunched up the long skirt of your dress to sit in the car, waiting patiently for your parents to climb in with you. Jessica was practically vibrating with excitement, and took your hand as the car started.

“You look amazing in that dress,” she whispered, leaning in to you. “It’s a pity your guy couldn’t come and see how hot you look. His loss, Dean’s gain, I guess?” You turned wide eyes on her, hoping your parents didn’t overhear. “Oh yeah, Sammy told me all about your night with Dean.”

“Nothing happened,” you replied, gritting your teeth.

“I know.” Jess laughed under her breath. “You’re not like that. But still… you spent the night in the treehouse with him. That’s so cute, I could die.”

“You will, if you don’t shut up,” you threatened, making her laugh loudly, and your mom frowned.

“What are you two chatting about?” she asked, and both of you sat up straight, zipping your mouths shut like you did when you were children. “Oh, I despair at the pair of you,” your mom groaned, covering her eyes with her hand. Jess winked at you, squeezing your hand, and you tried to put thoughts of Dean out of your mind.

As the limo pulled up to the church, Jess was turning into a puddle of nerves. She refused to let go of your hand, clinging to you until you managed to hand her off to your dad. Inside the large ornate doors, Dean was waiting for you, looking a little nervous as he stood in his suit, tie securing his collar up, and tattoos barely visible. He’d replaced the metal in his eyebrow and nose with see through holders, making him look a little more respectable.

“Was that forced, or did you volunteer?” you asked, pointing to his eyebrow. Dean smirked, before noticing the dress you were wearing. The rose pink fabric was figure hugging, accentuating your curves, before landing in a graceful pool at your feet.

“Wow. I take it back.” You arched an eyebrow at his comment. “Compared to now, you looked like shit at prom.”

It was a comment that normally would have earned a scathing remark, but instead you smiled sweetly and took his arm. “Wait until you see the hot chick your brother is about to marry.”

Dean chuckled, holding your arm tightly as you both moved to wait by the doors. Your mom squeezed past, walking down to take her place, her camera at the ready to get photos. Jessica was behind you, your dad wiping away the tears he definitely wasn’t crying. “You’re right,” Dean whispered, leaning into you. “He’s a lucky guy.”

Your smile widened, and the music started, which was your cue to walk slowly down the aisle with Dean on your arm. As you moved with him, aware of everyone’s eyes focused behind you on the door, waiting for Jess, you looked over the assembled guests, recognizing a lot of people from school. It was nice, how many people had come together; but then Sam and Jess were the golden couple.

It made you happy that she had that. There was no doubt in your mind that those two belonged together.

“See you later,” Dean muttered, releasing you so you could stand next to the spot where Jessica would take her vows with Sam, who looked on the verge of the happiest tears. The music swelled, and your little (yet taller) sister entered, a huge grin on her face as your dad walked her down. Your mom was already sobbing in the front row, snapping shaky pictures on her ancient camera.

The ceremony was brief, but beautiful, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of the happy couple. As Dean stepped forward to hand the rings over, your gaze met his, and he smiled a little, which for some reason made you stop breathing for a second. Then the union was pronounced complete, and your attention was captivated by happy cheers and shouts.

Dean seemed to disappear as the crowd moved outside, heading to their respective cars. The party was being held in the backyard between your parent’s house and the Winchester house - when the fence had blown down many years before in a storm, no one had ever bothered to put it back up.

Sunset came and went, and the party continued. You were tired, but didn’t want to go to bed just yet, and it was beginning to bug you as to where Dean had gone. In a moment of clarity, which was shocking considering how many shots of vodka you’d knocked back, your eyes went to the treehouse, where you could just make out the tip of a cigarette in the darkness.

Everyone was preoccupied with dancing, so you slipped away, managing to make it up the rickety ladder in your dress, only to come close to landing on your face as you got in the top. As you expected, Dean was there, bottle of beer in hand, regular cigarette in the other. “Too many people?” he asked, and you grinned, hitching your skirts up so you could sit next to him.

“What, no weed?” you chided, elbowing him.

“My dad would kill me,” he replied, holding up the normal cigarette. “He might kill me anyway.”

“How long have you been using my treehouse to be a delinquent?” you asked, and he chuckled.

“Since my dad chewed me out for using the Impala. But I promise, I never brought a girl up here.” He paused, turning those ridiculously beautiful eyes on you. “Except you, of course.” You fell silent, tearing your gaze away from him, looking out the window instead. “When are you flying home?”

You swallowed, wishing you could reply with “never”. But you had a life in Phoenix, and responsibilities, which you couldn’t just up and leave. “Tuesday. Jess and Sam leave for their honeymoon tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “They’re happy though.”

“That’s the fairy tale,” you replied, your voice little more than a whisper.

“Are you happy, Y/N? In Phoenix? With Alan?”

Looking down at your hands, you attempted to figure out how to reply to that. “It’s Adam,” you corrected. “And… yeah, I’m… I’m okay.”

“I didn’t ask that,” he practically growled. “Are you happy?”

“Y/N!” Jessica’s shrill call saved you from answering, and you gave Dean an apologetic smile, before scrambling to the edge and carefully lowering yourself down. Your sister stood, slightly drunk, with a knowing look on her face. “What are you doing up there? Smooching Dean again?”

“Shut up, Jess,” you snapped, scowling at her, and she laughed.

“I’m teasing. Come on, I wanna do more shots!”

You looked up at the treehouse, taking a deep breath, before following her. There would be time to address Dean’s question another time. It wasn’t like you weren’t going to see him before you left.

*****

“I’m gonna miss you,” your mom sniffed, pulling you into a hug. “And your dad will too.” You smiled, clinging to her tightly, wishing you didn’t have to leave. After the phone call from Adam the previous day, you felt a little more reassured about your relationship, but there was still the lingering guilt of your kiss with Dean.

You didn’t know whether to tell him or not.

In the few days since the wedding, Dean had been a ghost. You hadn’t been able to speak to him, and at this point, you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Obviously he hadn’t wanted to see you, or he would have been around.

Best you put him out of your mind and focused on trying to make your life better as it was. “I’m gonna miss you too, mom,” you replied, pulling back from the embrace as the tannoy announced your flight again. “I won’t leave it so long to visit this time.”

“You better not,” she scolded, blowing you a kiss as you backed away towards your gate. Buckling yourself into your seat on the plane, you looked out the window, seeing Kansas City sprawled out beyond the airport. You weren’t sure if you were homesick for Phoenix or already homesick for Lawrence.

Or Dean.

You closed your eyes, sighing heavily, leaning back in the seat. It was a relatively short flight, but you were tired from the last week, and before the engines even rumbled to life, you were asleep. Dreaming of a treehouse, and spiralling dragon tattoos.


	7. Chapter 7

You’d lied to your mom. You didn’t return to Kansas, not even for the holidays. Things with Adam had gotten a little more serious, and between work and home life with him, you hadn’t even thought of going back. It was easier to ignore everything in favor of the perfect life you were building.

After Thanksgiving, you moved in with Adam, taking your cat with you. That signified that the relationship was serious, and aside from a few little issues, Adam was the perfect boyfriend. He worked a lot, but so did you, and you didn’t really mind doing all the chores around the house. As long as he took the trash out, you didn’t mind at all.

Christmas came and went, twice, and before you knew it, it was two years since you’d been home. Jess and Sam had visited once, although they still hadn’t met Adam, as his meeting had overrun at work and he couldn’t get back in time before they had to leave. When your parents came to town for a weekend, it coincided with a work retreat that he couldn’t miss.

It would happen eventually. You were happy with him, and he loved you, so eventually, it would go on to the next step.

Only it didn’t.

It was a warm March evening when you returned to your apartment block with the groceries, and your phone rang in your pocket. Fumbling with the bags, you managed to dig out your cell, answering to your mother, sobbing heavily.

“Mom?” In the two seconds it took her to answer, every scenario possible ran through your head, and your heart froze. Your fingers shook as you stood with the bag of groceries, your purse, and your phone, all precariously balanced. “Mom?”

“Y/N,” your mom sniffed. “I… I’m so sorry to have to tell you this…”

She paused and you felt like screaming at her. “What?” you prompted, worry flooding your voice. “What, mom?”

“It’s John.”

Slowly, you started to shake your head, not able to quite get what she was saying. She spoke in a gentle tone, interspersed with sobs and hiccups, but eventually, the words got through.

John Winchester was dead. He’d been sick for a while, you knew that much. Your mom had told you it was cancer, but they’d said it was treatable. Dean had been with him the whole time, taking him to appointments, making sure he ate right, and managing the garage in his absence. He was supposed to recover. Instead, he’d died.

He’d gone peacefully, so your mother explained. In his sleep. Dean found him the next morning, cold in his bed. Unexpected coronary event, a rare side effect of his treatment. His body just couldn’t take any more.

“The funeral is next week.”

You nodded, knowing you should be crying, but too stiff with shock to do anything. “I - I can book a flight.”

“Your dad… I don’t know how to help him,” your mom sobbed, and you sniffed, dropping the groceries as you wiped at your face. “He’s so lost; him and John were friends for over twenty years.”

“I’ll help. I’ll get an early flight and come home,” you promised, snapping into action. It was how you’d always dealt with bad news - find something to do, to concentrate on. As you grabbed the groceries again, you stomped up the stairs, ready to get down to business; book a flight, write down Crowley’s feeding schedule, make sure Adam had enough milk for his shakes. “I’m gonna sort everything out, mom. I’ll be there to help. Who is arranging the funeral?”

“Dean was… I’ve been trying to help but that poor boy…” God, Dean had been the one there for his dad. Sam and Jess had moved upstate last year, to an area with better schools and more young families. No doubt they would fly in for the funeral, but Sam was busy with work, he always was. And Jess wouldn’t want to come alone. 

You struggled to get your keys out, finally managing to unlock the door and stumble through. Dumping the groceries, you noticed Adam’s suit jacket on the back of the couch - he was probably home earlier, like you were. “Mom, I’m gonna get a flight booked and I will call you okay? I’ll get a redeye out tonight and -”

“Okay, honey. Call me back in a minute, I love you.”

You smiled, despite yourself. “I love you too, mom.” Clicking to hang up, you walked towards the bedroom, looking at your phone as you fired off a text to Jenny. She would want to know the news; she’d practically grown up at your house and knew the Winchester family as if they were her own. 

So focused on sending the text, you didn’t see them straight away. The bedroom door swung wide, and the yelp of a woman made you look up.

Your face twisted into an angry snarl. “Didn’t expect me home early then, sweetheart?”

Adam made an unattractive shrieking noise, pushing the young blonde off his cock, sending her sprawling across the bedroom floor. Rage swelled up inside you, and you turned around, walking out of the bedroom, ignoring Adam shouting your name.

Moving into the kitchen, you picked up the ornate plates on the side, the ones his mother had bought him. Looking between the plate and the floor, you grinned, lifting the porcelain high above your head, before throwing it at the floor, letting it shatter into hundreds of pieces.

There, you felt better.

Your “boyfriend” was ushering the naked girl out of the apartment, and as he shut the door and turned to you, his face was already in what you called his “begging” mode. He took one step forward, and promptly found himself under attack from Crowley. The black cat was puffed up in agitation, scratching and biting as Adam desperately tried to escape.

“He doesn’t like when you bring dogs in the house, Adam,” you smirked. “I told you that a thousand times.” Leaning on the counter, you raised an eyebrow. “Wondered why you didn’t get a pay rise for all the hard work you’ve been putting in. Now I know you’ve been putting it in that.”

“Baby,” he started, reaching out a hand as he managed to shake off your snarling beast of a cat. “I can -”

“I highly doubt,” you interrupted, turning away, “that there is any explanation for the blonde number swivelling on your dick. And to be honest, I don’t want it. I’ve sunk nearly four years into you, and longer into this city, but I’m done.” You stalked around the counter, instantly joined by Crowley, who was rubbing against your leg playfully.

“Y/N, you can’t just leave!” Adam yelled. “I can’t afford this place on my own. You always made the most, and I -”

You looked at him, smiling sweetly. “Oh honey. That sounds like a you problem.”

*****

Sitting in your car, you placed your hands on the wheel, looking down the street you’d lived on for the last year. You’d never liked it - the neighborhood wasn’t friendly, it wasn’t neat and tidy, and it was more expensive than it was worth. Glancing over at Crowley, who was sat in his cat carrier, strapped in and looking like he was ready for the road, you smiled, poking a finger through the cage bars.

He licked it, meowing at you softly.

“Yeah. That’s a good idea, boy,” you replied, dragging your phone from your pocket. You dialled the number you knew by heart, and waited for the answer. “Hi, Mom?”

“Y/N! I was getting worried. Did you book a flight?”

You took a breath, exhaling slowly and deliberately. “No.”

“What? Why? Is it that Adam -”

“No, Mom, wait.” You could hear the smile in your own voice. “Adam and I are done. I’m coming home.”


	8. Chapter 8

Standing in your old room, surrounding by boxes of your belongings, something felt like it was clicking into place. Phoenix had never been your home, although you’d strived to try and make it that way. Obviously, Crowley felt the same, despite having lived in Phoenix all his life; he was currently stretched out in a patch of sunlight on your bed.

“Fresh starts,” you muttered, giving the black cat a scratch behind the ears, and he extended his paws, yawning widely before falling back asleep. “Just gotta figure out what to do now.”

Leaving had been very much a snap decision, and you’d driven through the night and then some to arrive back at your childhood home, back into the welcoming arms of your parents. Your mom was relieved to see you, and your dad was pissed, mostly wanting to drive back to Arizona with a baseball bat to cave Adam’s head in.

Adam had been calling you non-stop, bombarding you with text messages and voicemails, each one being steadfastly ignored. He’d started off begging, apologizing, desperate for you to come back. But the last message, which had prompted you to turn your phone off and throw it across the room, was full of insults, degrading your worth as a woman, as a girlfriend and as a person.

If you ever saw him again, it would earn you some jail time.

“Y/N?” The knock on the door only proceeded your mother’s entrance by a few seconds, and you turned, smiling at her with bloodshot, tired eyes. “Oh, honey, you look exhausted.”

“I’m fine, mom,” you replied, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. You needed to unpack, figure out what to do with all your things, and then decide what to do about work. “Just… head’s a bit full.”

“I know, sweetheart,” your mom soothed, sitting next to you. Crowley gave a disgruntled meow at the dip in the mattress, getting to his feet and abandoning his patch of sunlight. “But we’ll figure this out. Your dad already said he can get you into the design team at his office, so that’s one less thing.”

You nodded, rubbing your hands up and down your thighs. “I guess… I never thought this would be me. Back home at twenty-eight. No boyfriend, no house..” You sighed, looking over at your mother with tears gathering in your eyes. “And I kinda wanna take Dad up on his offer to go and beat Adam to death.”

“That wouldn’t solve anything, although I contemplated it myself for half a minute. I can’t believe that boy. No wonder he never met us.”

The suspicion had been in the back of your mind for a while, but you didn’t say anything, letting your mom pull you into a gentle embrace. She rubbed your back, and you allowed yourself to close your eyes. “Dad’s upset. This wasn’t exactly great timing.” Your mom hummed in agreement, and you felt a wet nose press against your arm. Sitting straight, you allowed Crowley to crawl onto your lap, stroking along his spine, which made him stick his ass up in the air.

“It’ll all sort itself out. You take a few days - don’t worry about work, your dad is handling that.”

“What about -” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the words. John was gone, and you had no idea how to process that on top of everything else. “Do you need me to do anything?”

Shaking her head, your mom reached over, stroking behind Crowley’s ears. He purred happily, sticking his claws into your thigh to indicate his pleasure. You hissed, and he stopped, but continued to pad with his paws. “No, it’s fine. Just… Dean’s been alone in the house since it happened. I’ve taken him a couple of casseroles, but I’m worried about him. Sam and Jess are flying in tomorrow.”

You weren’t sure if Dean would want to see you, but you had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t want casseroles - he was probably neck deep in a bottle of whiskey, and drowning his sorrows. His dad was the only family he had left in Lawrence, and with Sam gone… “I’ll go over.”

“Get some sleep first,” your mom chided. “You drove for eighteen hours, sweetie. You need rest.”

Crowley jumped off your lap as you stood up, scowling at you before disappearing among the boxes. He would probably pee on something at some point, being the grumpy kitty that he was. Your mom frowned, following him with her eyes.

“He’s a friendly cat, right?” she asked, warily and you chuckled.

“You get used to him. He’s just a spoilt little king.”

*****

Twelve hours of sleep and a hot shower later, you felt a little more refreshed, and ready to face everything. You dressed quickly, taking note of the time - it was late morning, and you hoped that Dean would be at least awake, if not coherent.

Jogging across the lawn to the Winchester house, you saw the Impala parked in the driveway. She was filthy dirty, which was a cause for concern, as Dean rarely let her get into that state. You jumped up the steps to the porch, digging under the mat for the spare key, and let yourself into the house.

“Dean?” you called, stepping inside, looking around for any sign of life. The house was tidy, or as tidy as it could be for two men living in the same space, but nothing seemed out of place. The kitchen was empty, one of your mom’s casseroles sitting on the side, untouched, the plastic film still wrapped around the top. “Dean?” you called again, moving into the living room. That too, was void of any residents, and the study was just as bare.

Leaving the lower floor, you ascended the stairs, seeing Sam’s former bedroom door open, along with the master bedroom. Everything was clean and tidy, no indication of the tragedy that had occurred. You took each step slowly, knowing the creaks of the old stairs like they were your own. Dean’s room was empty, and the only room in the house that looked like a tornado had blown through it. Empty beer bottles, whiskey bottles, and cigarette butts littered the floor, clothes thrown everywhere and you didn’t want to know what the congealed puddle in the corner was. With a frown, you kept moving, hearing noise in the bathroom at the end of the hall.

Peering around the door, you spotted a soggy lump in the bath. Another empty bottle was on the formerly white rug, slowly dripping its remains to add another stain. “Dean?” you whispered, and the soggy lump moved, and an arm flung outwards.

“Go away,” Dean grumbled, and you frowned, stepping into the room and standing over him. “I’m fine.”

“And don’t you look a picture of health,” you replied dryly, bending down and taking his arm. He was grieving, yes, and had obviously lost his way, but you weren’t one to coddle someone who needed hard love. “Get up.”

“Leave me alone,” he snapped, trying to snatch his arm back. His shirt was soaked - you hoped to god with water - and he looked like death. The bar was missing from his eyebrow, leaving a bloody, mangled piece of skin where it had been, he smelt like a brewery had exploded on him, and his hair… you weren’t even sure what color it was at this point.

Grunting, you hoisted him up, which wasn’t an easy feat seeing as he was significantly taller than you, and heavier than a corpse. Dean offered up no resistance, but he didn’t offer any help either, and that left you the option of dropping him onto the bathroom floor like a stone. He slouched against the toilet, covering his eyes with his arm. “Dean, you can’t do this to yourself.”

“Why do you care?” His voice was a low growl, and you sat back on your haunches, crouched beside him. “Why are you even here? Aren’t you living your perfect happy life in Phoenix?”

It was obvious he was trying to get a rise out of you, but you swallowed down your angry response, focusing on him and his problems. “This isn’t about me,” you said stiffly, dragging his arm away from his face, and he put up a token fight to stop you. “Dean, stop it.”

“Don’t want your help,” he snarled, pushing at you, and you scowled, digging your fingers into the flesh of his bare arm. “Ow!”

“Stop being a child,” you ordered, fixing him with a fierce look. “Jesus, Dean, look at you. You’re a mess.” He shrugged, sticking his bottom lip out, and aside from the tattoos and piercings, he looked every inch the small boy you’d once hated. You released his arm, letting it fall into his lap, little crescent moon shapes from your nails remaining on the body of the thick dragon he had tattooed up the length of his forearm. Gently, you reached forward, touching at the wound where his eyebrow piercing had been. “What did you do?”

“Caught it,” he shrugged, refusing to look at you.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Come on.” His eyes flickered to you, and you saw the defiance there, but you were in no mood to argue. “Get up, Winchester.”

Dean made a noise of disgust, complying with your request and getting to his feet shakily, shrugging off your offer of help. You watched him for a moment, wondering how long he’d been hiding away indoors.

“When did you last go to work?” you asked. Another shrug. “Is the shop shut, or is your Uncle Bobby watching it?” Yet another shrug. This was getting tiresome. “Fine, don’t answer me. God, you stink.” He stuck his tongue out, and you narrowed your eyes. “Child.” You half expected him to flip you off, but he remained rooted to the spot, the patented Winchester sulk on his face. “Sam is flying in later.” There was a spark in his eyes at that information, but he didn’t speak. “You really think he’d wanna see you like this?”

It was a low blow, and you didn’t want to use it, but if it got him whipped into shape, then it would do. Dean looked down at himself, frowning at his own appearance, and you smiled softly.

“I’ll go make us some coffee. You get a shower, and I’ll help you clean this place up before your brother gets here, okay?”

“Okay,” he mumbled, the fight going right out of him as his shoulders slumped. Lingering for a second, you wondered if his eyebrow would need stitches, before turning away and heading back downstairs.

Twenty minutes later, two cups of hot coffee sat on the kitchen island, and Dean emerged, wearing a pair of sweats with a towel around his neck. You couldn’t help but stare at him as he wandered around the room, grabbing a protein bar from the cupboard before settling himself on one of the stools.

“Coffee,” you offered, pushing the cup towards him, your voice a little high pitched. “Black, two sugars. You still have it that way, right?”

He nodded, taking the cup gratefully, and you watched him for a moment, studying the intricate artwork covering his upper torso, the designs curling across his clearly defined chest and shoulders. “It’s rude to stare,” Dean mumbled, distracting you, and you blushed, picking up your own coffee.

“Sorry. I’ve just never seen all of your tattoos. They’re… really amazing.”

Dean looked down, before shrugging and glancing back up at you. His eyes were bloodshot, either from alcohol or crying, but there was a little twitch in his lips. “That’s not even all of them,” he teased, and you couldn’t help but smile at him.

“You never did show me the dragon,” you recalled, and Dean chuckled under his breath.

“Play your cards right, and maybe I will.”

A comfortable silence fell over the room as you both finished your coffees, and you took his cup, placing it into the sink, along with yours. “I’ll make a start cleaning up, okay? You get yourself something proper to eat - that protein bar is not enough.” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, avoiding your gaze once more.

You paused, resting your hand on top of his, trying to ignore the warmth of his skin. “We’re friends, right?” you asked softly, and Dean raised his eyes, meeting yours, nodding slightly. “Then I have to do this. And even if I didn’t, I want to.” Squeezing his fingers briefly, you let go, moving past him with the intention of clearing the house of empty bottles.

Dean didn’t say anything, and didn’t object.

In some ways, that disturbed you more than anything else.


	9. Chapter 9

“I, er, made you something to eat,” Dean called from the doorway, and you turned, trash bag in hand. You were almost done, entirely focused on the task at hand, and you gave him a weary smile. “You’ve been at it for a while.” He’d put a top on, and had cleaned up his face, shaving off most of his stubble and there was a shiny new bar in his eyebrow, so the piercing couldn’t have been that damaged.

Putting the bag down, you walked over to him, still smiling. “Thanks.”

“Nothin’ fancy,” he mumbled. “Just what I had in the refrigerator. I guess I need to go shopping, huh?”

“Might be an idea.” You moved into the kitchen, with him close behind. “Sam and Jess are getting in around 7pm. My mom is gonna go collect them. They’re staying here, if that’s okay.” Dean shrugged, not responding, and you took a seat at the kitchen island where he’d left your food, watching him. “Dean, it’s okay to be not okay, you know.”

“I know,” he acknowledged, sitting opposite you. “I guess… I’m sorry you had to see me like that.” You weren’t entirely sure how to reply to that, so you picked up a chip, biting into it. Dean watched for a moment, before sighing heavily. “I don’t know what to do with all this.” He gestured to the house. 

“We’ll figure it out,” you assured him, picking at your food delicately.

Dean sighed again, leaning on his elbows on the edge of the island, just watching you, and you waited, knowing he wasn’t done talking, but giving him the time he needed. “How long are you staying?” he asked.

You inhaled, plastering a soft smile on your face. “Actually, I’m not leaving. I’ve, er, moved home. For good.”

“Oh.” He seemed shocked by that, lifting his head slightly, his eyes wide. “That’s good. I mean, is everything okay? What happened with that guy?”

“Adam?” You barked a laugh, popping another chip in your mouth. “Yeah, that was a waste of a few years.” Dean frowned, not replying, and you sighed, shaking your head. “I got home a few days ago to see him balls deep in some blonde bitch. Packed my shit and Crowley, got the hell out of there. Kinda spur of the moment.”

He blinked at you, raising an eyebrow. “Crowley?”

“My cat.”

“You named your cat after a Black Sabbath song?” You laughed at that, pushing the plate away, only for Dean to immediately comment. “Something wrong with the food?”

“No,” you replied. “Just not very hungry. And it’s getting late. Sam and Jess are gonna be here soon.” You stood up, intending to get back on with the cleaning, but Dean’s hand caught your arm. Looking down, you frowned at the contact. “Dean -”

“Y/N… are you really okay?” he asked, earnestly, and you hesitated, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. His fingers flexed around your bicep, and tears were pricking at your eyes, the emotions of the past few days threatening to overwhelm you. Shaking the feeling away, you sucked in a breath, nodding. “Y/N -”

A knock at the door made you both turn, and you sighed with relief at the interruption, moving to open the door. On the doorstep, a tall, thin blonde stood, dressed in hideously revealing clothes. She glared at you, before her attention turned to Dean, and she promptly ran through the door, flinging herself at him.

“Dean, baby! I’ve been so worried!”

“Crystal -” he stuttered, almost looking like he might choke underneath her embrace. You stood with the door in your hand, mouth agape at the trashy woman. “I wasn’t -”

“You weren’t answering your phone!” Her voice was like a diamond drill, and you flinched at the sound, making eye contact with Dean, just as the woman released him from her death grip and turned to glare at you. “Who are you?” she demanded, scowling.

“Er, I’m…”

“This is Y/N,” Dean explained, hurriedly. “She’s my neighbor, and she just came over to check on me.” Crystal didn’t look happy with that, and folded her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I just… with everything going on -”

The woman’s face melted into a smile and she looked back at him, squeezing his face between her hands. “Oh, my poor baby. I’m here now, it’s all gonna be okay.”

You were going to vomit. Raising an eyebrow at him as Crystal started to place disgustingly loud kisses all over his face, you decided that you could not stand there any longer. “You know what, I’ve got stuff to do. I guess you can manage now, Dean.” 

“Y/N -” he started, but Crystal cut him off.

“He’s fine, sweetie. We don’t need your help.”

Her tone was clipped, and you bristled, shrugging. Without looking back, you left the house, slamming the door behind you. Crystal’s high pitched giggle followed you across the lawn towards your house, and you realized she might have been the first person you’d ever hated when you’d met the very first time.

Your mom was in the kitchen when you stalked through the door, face like thunder and fists clenched at your sides. Crowley had already invaded the downstairs, and was happily munching on some fresh fish that he’d probably conned out of your mother. “Honey? Something wrong?” 

You paused, looking at her with exasperation. “Oh yeah. Peachy. Spent all afternoon clearing up after Dean, after making sure he was alive, and then the wonderful Crystal turns up. Thought you said he was alone?”

The face your mom pulled was almost comical. “Oh. Her.” She waved a hand. “That woman is walking venom. John hated her. I think Dean just…”

“Has really fucking low standards?” you chimed in, earning yourself a glare.

“Language!” She scolded, moving around the kitchen island. “Is that a hint of jealousy, Y/N?”

You glared at her, making a disgusted noise and folding your arms over your chest. “Please. I am not jealous. She’s a total airhead. And I’m pretty sure her boobs are fake.” The knowing expression on your mom’s face made you wilt a little, and you reinforced your glare with a scowl. “There is no jealousy.”

“Jess told me about your kiss with Dean in the treehouse,” she commented, almost as if it was routine chit-chat, and you realized that there was nothing else for it - you were going to have to kill your big mouthed sister. “I mean, he’s a nice boy. He’s got his own business, technically. And you’ve always -”

Shaking your head, you pushed past her, ignoring her laughter. “I’m not listening. I don’t like Dean Winchester, mom, never have. That kiss was a mistake. A very drunken… something. It didn’t mean anything.” The clock chimed seven, and you raised an eyebrow at it. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting Sam and my soon-to-be-dead sister from the airport?”

“Your dad went,” she muttered, rubbing her head. “I wasn’t feeling up to the drive.”

“Mom…” you started, turning back to her. “Are you okay?”

She gave you a weak smile, nodding. “I’m fine, honey. Just worried about your dad, and you and your sister… it’s my job.” There was a sparkle in her eyes as she looked at you fondly. “You’ll understand one day, when you’re a mom. It’s very tiring.”

You didn’t doubt that; your mom had always seemed like a superhero to you. But with how your last relationship had just ended, and the lack of luck you’d had with guys since you were a teen… being a mom sounded like a far off dream.

Crowley yowled loudly at you, and you jumped out of your thoughts, grinning down at him before scooping him up off of the floor. “Don’t need a man,” you mumbled, kissing his furry head. “And who needs a baby when I have you, huh?” He purred agreeably.

“They’ll be back soon,” your mom said, turning her back to you. “Any thoughts on supper?”


	10. Chapter 10

Jess had apologized profusely for betraying your confidence and telling both Sam and your mom about the illicit kiss you’d shared with Dean so long ago. It didn’t really matter now, but you felt like you had to chew her out on principle.

Her exciting news, however, had managed to overshadow everything else. She and Sam were expecting their first child, and you were going to be an Aunt.

Score two for the perfect fairy tale of Jessica and Sam.

Sam was quiet, a little withdrawn, but that was to be expected when his father had just died. He went over to his former childhood home first, returning within minutes, apparently just as unimpressed with Crystal as you were.

“She’s a charming girl, right?” you joked, and Sam pulled a face.

“He said he’s gonna get rid of her before tonight. I’m not sleeping next door to that sort of shrieking.” Sam took a seat next to Jess, pulling her into his arms. “If she’s there when we go over, we’re sleeping in your old room.”

“As long as I don’t hear any shrieking,” you commented, grimacing. “I don’t need that imagery.”

Your dad chuckled, shaking his head. “Not under my roof. Sam knows the rules, don’t you, son?”

Sam nodded, tilting his head as Jessica grinned widely. “Absolutely, Mr. Y/L/N. You don’t care if we’re married, you’ll still break my legs.” He leaned into Jess, whispering in her ear, loud enough for you to hear. “Good thing I already got the job done.”

Making a gagging sound, you moved away from them, ignoring their laughter as you wandered into the kitchen. Crowley appeared from nowhere, wrapping himself around your legs and meowing loudly, obviously after food again. “You’re such a greedy cat,” you scolded, picking him up and putting him on the counter, before plucking his treats from the cupboard. Scattering a few on the countertop, you watched as he devoured them with noisy chewing. “Noisy cat too.”

The slam of a door drew your attention to the kitchen window, and you frowned, looking outside. Someone was shouting something, and by the sound of the voice, it was Crystal, and she wasn’t very happy. You strained, trying to listen as she stormed out of the Winchester house.

“Good luck finding someone else like me, Dean Winchester! I’m the best ass you ever had!”

“Oh, she’s classy too,” you whispered, mostly to either yourself or the cat, who completely ignored you. Dean emerged behind Crystal, simply watching her leave, her heels making enough noise to wake the dead. When she was out of sight, he turned, scrubbing a hand through his hair, before he shut the front door and padded around the side of the house. You watched him move, a frown growing on your face as you realized where he was heading. “Seriously? He’s still using my treehouse?”

He was quick to scale the ladder and disappear out of sight, and you glanced towards the living room, hearing your parents and Sam and Jess engaging in conversation about the arrangements for Saturday. They didn’t even notice you slip out of the back door, letting it close softly behind you.

Climbing the ladder to the treehouse seemed to be more of a challenge every time you did it, and you were huffing a little as you got to the top, sliding onto the rickety wooden floor. Dean blinked at you in surprise, almost dropping the joint he was lighting.

“Really?” you asked. “There’s not even the excuse of too many people now, Dean. Your only company just clickety clacked down the sidewalk.” You shimmied yourself across the floor, leaning up against the wall next to him. “And she seemed like such a nice girl.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head. “Crystal was… a distraction. You don’t wanna know.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But could I recommend an STD test?”

“She wasn’t that bad,” he argued, before pausing and thinking about it as you gave him the most sarcastic look you could muster. “Okay, maybe you’re right. But I was careful. Always am.”

“Hmmm,” you muttered, watching him take a drag on the joint. “Mind if I -?” You let the question hang, and Dean nodded, handing you the joint. You took a deep lungful of smoke down, already feeling the tease of the high in the edges of your mind. “Fuck, I needed that.”

“Really?” he asked, frowning. “I thought you were holding it together pretty well. Snapped me back into shape.” 

“We’ll see. Getting you showered and eating is just the start.”

“You gonna take care of me, Y/N?” he asked, teasing you, and you nudged him with your elbow, before passing the joint back. “I wouldn’t complain.” His tone dropped an octave, and you stared at him, feeling those familiar old butterflies in your belly.

It was stupid to even entertain the thought; he’d just ditched his girlfriend, and you were days out of a serious relationship. Whatever was between you was history, and would never work. Dean was a different shade of person, and you were… whatever you were. Obviously there was something off about you, or Adam wouldn’t have stuck his dick somewhere else.

“Dean,” you whispered, unconsciously leaning into him, feeling the haze of smoke over both of you. “This is a really bad idea.”

He shrugged, using his free hand to cup your cheek, drawing you in closer. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

The resistance in you was faulty to begin with, and as Dean’s lips pressed into yours, soft and warm and welcoming, you barely thought of anything else. You moaned against him, letting him pull you close, tasting the tang of the joint and whiskey on his tongue. He pushed his tongue between your lips, engaging yours and you responded eagerly, climbing into his lap. Your legs were either side of his hips, and when he pulled away, he offered you the joint again.

Inhaling the spicy smoke, you pressed into him again, sharing the taste with him, and Dean exhaled it through his nose, grinning up at you. He looked like the devil incarnate, as he sat there in the Kansas moonlight, the tattoos on his skin almost alive under the influence of the dim light and the drugs in your system. You couldn’t help but giggle, taking another hit, before giving it back to him. He took it, stubbing it out and looking up at you where you were perched in his lap, smiling like a boy at Christmas.

“You know how long I’ve dreamed about you?” he asked, pulling you down for another kiss. You didn’t get a chance to reply, sinking into him, returning his touch with eagerness. His fingers hooked around your waist, keeping you close against him, and you felt almost giddy with need. 

“Why me?”

Dean chuckled, kissing you again, but he didn’t answer the question. A filthy thought struck you, and you pulled back, smiling widely. “What?” His voice was a little breathy.

“I just…” You blushed, pausing. “Wanna see your dragon tattoo.”

His eyes widened and he smirked, allowing you space to climb off of his lap. The treehouse was big enough for him to stand, and he got to his feet, pushing his sweats down, and you followed the trail of fabric as it pooled around his ankles. “It’s this one,” he said, pointing to the ornate chinese dragon that curled around his calf, stopping on his inner thigh.

You reached forward, tracing it with your fingers, tail to snout, but when you reached the top, you didn’t stop, raising your eyes to meet Dean’s as you tugged his boxers down. He groaned deeply, his head falling back as your hand closed around his cock, already hard and pulsing with arousal.

“Fuck,” he gasped, and you smiled, pushing yourself up onto your knees.

Hesitation caught you short, and you wondered if he’d done anything with that awful woman today. He looked down when you didn’t move, frowning slightly, before he seemed to realize what was holding you back.

“I didn’t touch her,” he whispered, cupping your cheek with one hand, pushing hair back behind your ears. “I swear, I didn’t.” It was an honest answer, the one you needed to hear, and your smile returned, your fingers restarting their movements as you looked up at Dean with wide, hazy eyes.

Keeping your gaze on him, you guided his cock to your lips, swirling your tongue around the tip, before sucking him into the warmth of your mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he released a sinful sounding groan, bracing his hands against the treehouse wall for support. You had to drag your focus to what you were doing, that and looking up was starting to make the back of your eyes hurt. 

His taste was smoky but sweet, and strange combination but mixed with the salty tang of his skin, it was entirely Dean. The sounds he made were delicious, and you allowed your eyes to fall closed as you took more and more of him into your mouth, the thick head of his cock brushing against the ticklish spot at the back of your throat that would normally make you gag.

Thank god for the lack of gag reflex when you were high.

You moaned around him, cupping his balls with your other hand, rolling them between your fingers, and his dick twitched against your tongue. Opening your eyes once more, you glanced upward - the sight was magnificent to behold. His chest was straining against the slightly too-tight tank, exposing the outline of nipple piercings on each side; his arms bulged as he held himself in an almost Christ-like position against the wall, and thin rivulet of summer sweat trickled down his throat, making parts of the flames tattooed on his collarbone darker than others. The fabric of his clothing was damp, and you imagined yours were much the same.

Pulling back, you looked up at him properly, pumping him with your hand as you fought to catch your breath. Dean’s chin dropped down, his piercing eyes landing on you, and he grinned, covering your fingers with his own.

“You want me to come like this?” he asked. “Or do you want me to fuck you.”

There was a pulse of arousal in your core, and you were torn. On the one hand, you needed to come, and you couldn’t think of anything better than coming on the thick cock in your hand. But on the flipside… you wanted to see how beautiful he was when he came over your face. “I wanna watch you come,” you whispered, feeling flushed at the filthy words leaving your lips.

Dean smirked, gesturing to your top. “Take that off. Wanna come over your tits and face.” You made a sound that was a little more animal than human, dragging your shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor. Dean kept pumping his cock, his eyes glued to your heaving breasts, the nipples standing hard in the clammy night air. “Play with yourself,” he ordered.

His eyes were hard, the clench of his jaw prominent as you licked your fingers, gently cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples. You gasped at the feel of it, the sensation more intense with an audience. Knowing he was getting on watching you, you felt bolder and more adventurous. “Dean,” you whined, and he groaned in response, his cock swelling in his hand, the tip angry and red. “Please come on me.”

“Fuck, Y/N… almost, I’m almost…” The sound he made as he trailed off was deep, like a growl in his chest, and a second later, you felt the thick, warm ropes of come splash onto your chin and chest, coating your fingers.

Dean snarled, dropping to his knees with the force of his orgasm, his lidded eyes raising to look at you, knelt with come covering your skin. You smiled sweetly at him, bringing your finger up to your mouth, licking it clean without removing your gaze from him.

“It’s highly possible that I have never seen anything as hot as that,” he commented, pushing himself up straight. Pulling the tank over his head, he offered it to you, and you cleaned yourself up with the garment before tossing it to the side.

You were barely done when Dean had you pinned to the floor, resting on his hip on his left hand side, using his right leg to hold yours down. His arm came across your body, fingers ghosting over the juncture of your thighs. “D-Dean -”

“What?” was his cheeky reply, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he pressed into you with one thick finger, instantly finding your clit. “I figure turnabouts fair play.” It felt like your clit was throbbing through your panties as he caressed it with a gentle but firm touch. For long seconds, he rubbed small circles into you, lowering his head to catch one solid nipple in his mouth. A deep hum vibrated against your skin and he raised his head again, the smirk still on his face. “You taste like me.”

The words got stuck in your throat; you wanted to say how hot that was, how sexy it felt, god, that the things he did were amazing, and it didn’t even feel like he’d gotten started - but his mouth on your breasts, and his finger rubbing through the material of your pants was too much. All you managed was a squeal and yelp.

You uselessly wrenched at your legs, trying to free yourself so you could spread your thighs, remove your pants,  _ anything _ to give him better access and more friction. But Dean held you tight, insisting without speaking, that your orgasm would take as long as he deemed.

Mewling and panting, you shook under his touch, crying out when he switched to your other nipple. With each passing second, the sounds you made grew louder, and when the back door of your house opened, the noise echoing through the yard, Dean yanked his head up, swallowing down your cries with his tongue and teeth.

It sent adrenaline pulsing through you, and you scraped your nails into the floor as you came, soaking your panties, bucking as much as his weight would allow. You wanted to scream, cry out his name, but his mouth remained on yours, so all you managed was a whine.

Your mom called your name just as your climax started to ebb away, and Dean released you, tugging his pants up over his renewed erection. For a moment, he just watched you, smiling, leaning back against the wall and lighting the joint again.

“Y/N?”

You sat up, scowling at him, hating the smug look on his face. You reached for your top, tugging it over your head once more and making yourself decent, before crawling to the edge of the treehouse. “I’m up here, mom,” you called, hoping it didn’t look like the boy next door had fingered you through your pants and given you the most amazing orgasm you’d probably ever experienced.

There was nothing on your mom’s face that gave away any inclination she had about your activities. She smiled up at you, giving a little. “What are you doing up there?”

“I was just talking. To Dean,” you added, feeling your cheeks heat up. Hopefully the reaction was covered by darkness.

“Oh.” She seemed pleased by that. “Well, we’re all turning in for the night. Are you coming in?”

You hesitated, especially when Dean cleared his throat, raising his eyes to meet yours as you turned. There was a reason to stay - the tent in his pants was twitching with the thought of what both of you could do.

But then…

He was in a bad place, and you probably shouldn’t have done what you already had. Taking it further didn’t feel right, and you turned back to your mom slowly. “Yeah, I’m coming,” you replied, unable to look back as you started to climb down the ladder.

At the bottom of the tree, you turned looking back up at the dark entrance. Nothing moved, and you felt a stone weight drop into your belly, retreating into the warmth of the house.

You’d talk to him tomorrow.


	11. Chapter 11

The morning came with a heavy sense of guilt, and you climbed into the shower, feeling none the better for the hot spray. Within thirty minutes, you were dressed and in the kitchen, making coffee before anyone else had risen.

“Morning,” your mom chirped, smiling at you as she walked into the room. You managed a brief smile in return, before pouring a cup of coffee for her and passing it across the table. “What are your plans for the day?”

“Look for an apartment,” you sighed, leaning on the counter.

She gave you a look, her bottom lip sticking out. “Honey, you know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

You shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “I like my space, mom. Plus… I don’t think Dad likes Crowley much.”

“He’ll get over it,” your mom replied, sipping at her coffee, just as the aforementioned cat came strolling into the kitchen like he owned the place. He jumped up onto the counter, plonking his furry butt on the tiled surface, looking at both of you with expectation. “Crowley’s just stuck in his ways,” she added, scratching the black moggy under his chin. Crowley purred, arching his back, and you rolled your eyes.

“Such a ladies man,” you commented, turning away to prepare his breakfast.

The cat continued to enjoy the fuss from your mother, before he noticed what you were doing. Promptly descending from the counter, he rubbed against your legs, meowing loudly, as if that would make you go faster. Your mom chuckled.

“Hmm, looks like Dean went out,” she commented, her eyes on the kitchen window. Standing straight, you followed her gaze, seeing the Impala gone from the driveway. A frown dipped your brow, and you silently cursed - speaking to Dean had been on your list of things to do today, to try and clear up the mess you’d made last night. “Maybe he’s gone to the shop. I know Bobby will be glad to see him getting back into things.”

You didn’t reply, finishing Crowley’s breakfast and leaving him to tuck in hungrily. “I’m gonna shoot out then,” you announced, walking around the counter and pecking your mom on the cheek. She gave you a concerned look, opening her mouth to tell you that you hadn’t finished your coffee, but you were already out the front door.

Dean wasn’t at the garage, although you didn’t go in. Knowing this town well enough, you’d walked in, and only meandered past the shop on the off chance he might be visible. If he was out back, he wouldn’t be seen, and you didn’t want to look like you were stalking him.

By midday, you had half a dozen apartments booked for viewings, and you’d gone into your dad’s office to speak with the manager. He was more than happy to have you on the team, having been pestering your dad to headhunt you from the Phoenix branch for two years, and you agreed that you’d take a couple of weeks to settle back at home, using up the vacation hours you had saved.

Relaxing wasn’t on your agenda, and you continued walking around Lawrence, seeing the things that had changed over the years. The Winchester garage was on the way home, so you walked back by it, hoping again to see Dean.

The Impala was out front, and as you walked on the other side of the road, Dean emerged from the garage, a brunette woman hooked on his arm and a smile on his face.

Your heart thundered, and you suddenly felt cheap, and used. It was Adam all over again, and your stomach curled with anger and disgust. Dean had been so open and honest with you last night, and then…

Ugh, he was just like he’d always been.

You ducked into the Harvelle sandwich shop opposite the garage, trying to ignore the steadily building tears in your eyes, hoping he hadn’t seen you. The Impala roared to life, and sped off, and you hoping he’d take her anywhere but back to his house. It was bad enough you’d have to face him at the funeral; you didn’t want to see him at home.

“Y/N?” The older feminine voice made you turn, and Ellen Harvelle was smiling widely at you. “It  _is_ you!” She rushed forward, enveloping you in a hug before you had a chance to breathe. “Oh my god,” she shrieked, pulling back and holding you at arms length. “You’re all grown up, girl.”

“It happens,” you quipped, slightly grateful for the distraction.

“What can I getcha?” Ellen asked, raising an eyebrow.

You stuttered, unsure what to say, not wanting to give away that you were hiding from Dean. “I, er, I…” Her eyes narrowed. “Can I get a coffee? To go?”

“Of course. I won’t mention that you ran in here right after Dean came out the garage.” She winked, tugging you towards the counter. “Still not getting along?”

Shaking your head, you leaned on the counter. “No, it’s not… it’s not that.” You really didn’t want to talk about it, and Ellen, being the godsend she always had been, picked up on that.

“So, you visiting for the funeral?” Her tone was tinged with sadness - it was a well known fact that her husband Bill, had been close friends with both John and your father. Their poker nights were the bane of your mother’s existence. Bill Harvelle had passed six years ago in a car accident.

“No, I, er, I moved back home,” you responded, giving her a little smile. “It’s shit timing but I couldn’t stay in Phoenix. It wasn’t home.”

Ellen smiled, passing the cup of coffee over the top of the counter. “On the house, sweetie. A welcome home present. Always said Phoenix didn’t deserve you.” Her smile was wide, and you felt a sense of calm, suddenly feeling a little more at home in your home town. “I’ll be over Friday evening. Your mom and I are doing the catering for John’s wake together.”

“She mentioned something about that,” you muttered, sipping at the delicious brew. “Coffee is a plus, as always.” You smiled, and Ellen chuckled, shrugging. “Hows Jo doing?”

“She’s good. Studying hard. Wants to be an ecologist.” Jo was Ellen’s sixteen year old daughter, who acted more like she was your age. The head on that girl’s shoulders was more screwed on than most adults you’d known, and you hadn’t even seen her in two or three years. “She’ll be happy to see you, despite the circumstances.”

You nodded, holding up the cup of coffee in thanks. “I better get going. I’m still sifting through the apocalypse that is my life. See you Friday?”

“See you on Friday,” she replied, giving you a little wave. “And what don’t kill ya, makes ya stronger, girl!”

The laugh you responded with was bright, and you left the premises, sipping at your coffee and enjoying the bright sunshine. As you walked down your block, you were glad to see the Impala was absent, and Jess was out on the front porch, watching Sam help your dad fix his beaten up old Ford. “Why don’t you just get a new car?” you asked, walking up behind them. Your dad stood straight and turned to look at you, opening his mouth for the argument you’d had before. “Nevermind.” The single word shut him up and you turned away, heading up to join Jess on the porch. She was sitting on the swing seat, one hand resting over her barely-there-bump.

Was there ever a time you wouldn’t be jealous of the life she’d built, while yours was just falling apart?

“Hey, little sis,” you greeted, taking the seat next to her. “How’s that human growing?”

Jessica smiled. “Morning sickness is a bitch. Mom keeps trying to feed me ginger cookies.”

You laughed, leaning into her. “Enjoying the view?” Sam was bent over the car, tight jeans accentuating his ass.

“Are you eyeing up my husband?” she teased. “I thought you only had eyes for his brother.”

The noise of disgust you made wasn’t even slightly disguised. “I’d rather not go into that right now,” you sighed.

Your sister frowned, turning to look at you. “What happened? Mom said you were in the treehouse with him last night. Aren’t you getting a little old for that?”

Chewing on your lip, you stared at the plastic lid of your coffee. “Things may have happened. Things that probably shouldn’t have happened.” You sucked in a breath, releasing it in one big whoosh. “I was gonna talk to him, but then I saw him coming out of the garage with some busty brunette on his arm, and I’m assuming that he won’t wanna talk to me.”

“Oh,” Jessica replied, her frown deepening. “Well, he’s not in a great place right now. Sam is worried about him.”

“I’m worried about him too,” you admitted. “And I felt like… I dunno, like I’d taken advantage last night. But I guess I was just another notch on the very carved up bedpost.” You sunk down into the seat cushions a little more. “Sooner I find my own place, and don’t have to see his stupid face every day, the better.”

Jess didn’t reply; she watched you for a few moments, before turning away. It was easy to see she wasn’t done on the subject, but she also knew you better than anyone else, and knew when to drop it.

“So, thoughts on names?” you asked, completely changing the topic, and your sister’s smile returned.


	12. Chapter 12

The week went quickly, and you busied yourself helping your mom and Ellen. Dean didn’t have much involvement in the funeral, and neither did Sam, but your parents were happy to step in. Both families were so close, it wasn’t hard to know what John would want.

Saturday morning came faster than you’d been wanting it too, and by 11am, you were dressed in a slimming black dress, your hair pulled back into a sensible style. You’d opted for flat ballet pumps, and minimal accessories, which was mostly the necklace you’d worn for the last twenty years (one Jess had made for you) and the small black clutch bag that had seen you through many an executive event.

Your dad looked solemn as he sat in the living room, surrounded by the chairs and tables your mom had put out for the wake. Dean hadn’t wanted it at the house, so they’d decided to have it here, and use the garden. It was likely there’d be a lot of family in town for the service, and your mom didn’t want anyone going hungry on such an awful day.

“I’m gonna go see if Dean is ready,” Sam mumbled, walking past with red-rimmed eyes. Jessica followed behind, rubbing one hand down his back, and it was clear he’d had a bad night. As he walked out the door, Jess moved to your side, pulling you into a spontaneous hug.

“You okay?” she asked, and you smiled.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Is this even real?” your dad muttered, staring into space. “I can’t believe I’m having to do this.” You looked at him sadly, both you and Jess moving to sit either side of him. “His poor boys… John never deserved to… to go so young.” It wasn’t hard to see how difficult it was for your father. He’d been so lost when Bill had died - at least then he had John.

“We’re here for whatever you need, Daddy,” Jessica whispered, wrapping her arm around him.

He sniffed, giving her a weak smile. “What if I’m next?” he asked, and you felt tears in your eyes at the thought. Your dad was obviously contemplating his own mortality in the midst of all this. “I don’t wanna leave you girls, or your mother, I can’t -” He stopped, dropping his head into his hands. 

“Dad, you’re not going anywhere,” you assured him, joining the hug. He nodded, but didn’t move his hands, and you met Jessica’s eyes over his head. 

The front door opened, and Sam returned, a downtrodden looking Dean in tow. The elder Winchester had his tie hanging loosely around his neck, and you knew Sam would have had Jess do his. Without even thinking, you stood, leaving your dad with your capable sister. Your legs took you across the room to where Dean had just closed the front door, immediately taking his tie in your hands and folding it into a smart Windsor knot. Dean looked bewildered at your move, watching your face carefully until you were done.

“Thanks,” he whispered. “Always struggled with these.” 

You smiled, patting the knot down, tucking the hanging length into his jacket. “You’re welcome.” His eyes held your attention for a second, before your mom walked into the room, followed by Crowley, and she clapped her hands together.

“Cars will be here in ten minutes,” she announced, looking at Sam and Dean, tears filling her eyes. “Oh. Oh, you boys look so handsome,” she whispered, covering her mouth with her hands. “Your father would be so proud of you.”

“Mom,” you warned, and she shook herself, sucking in a breath to calm her tears. 

“Thanks, Mrs Y/L/N,” Dean muttered, shuffling from foot to foot, and you stiffened as his hand brushed against yours. “Which car am I in?”

“You’re going with Sam, Jess and Y/N,” your mom replied, and your eyes snapped to hers. She smiled at you, and for a second, you genuinely believed she’d planned this, but then her expression softened. “All the kids together, right?”

Sam’s hand was resting on Jessica’s belly, not even slightly there yet, but you couldn’t blame him for being protective. He’d never get to introduce his child to his father - the baby would never know either of its paternal grandparents. The thought of it made your chest tighten.

“Could I trouble you for a glass of water?” Dean asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. You smiled tightly, nodded as you headed for the kitchen, all too aware of him following behind. Your mom started to fuss over Jess, and then your dad, and you ignored the chatter as you grabbed a glass and filled it from the refrigerator, handing it to Dean silently. “You okay?” he asked, a little tentatively.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” you shot back, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone.

“I’m…” He sighed, his shoulders dropping. “I saw you the other day. When I was -”

You huffed, not wanting to discuss this here. Or now. Or possibly ever. “Yeah, I got the message, Dean.”

“I was pissed. You just took off, and -”

“What happened between us shouldn’t have happened,” you hissed, lowering your voice. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that.”

Dean blinked, confusion in those damn green eyes of his, and he opened his mouth to argue, just as a car horn sounded outside.

“Cars are here!” your mom called, and you took the exit thankfully, stomping past Dean and out the front door. Once in the car, you placed yourself as far from Dean as possible, refusing to acknowledge him.

“You’re okay?” Jessica asked you, frowning at the tension between you and Dean. “You seem a little -”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, and your sister frowned, reaching to take your hand, making you relax with a single look. The fight went out of you, and you gave her a reluctant smile. “Just… bad day, Jess. All round, ya know?”

Sam gave a little laugh, devoid of any amusement, nodding in agreement. Jessica patted your hand, smiling softly. “At least we all have each other, right?”

For the rest of the day, you’d wish you’d never looked Dean in the eye after she said that.

*****

The service was a somber event. There were only a handful of occasions when you remember seeing your father cry, and it broke your heart every time. He was such a strong man, and he’d lost both of his best friends, the only brothers he really had, within such a short time. The way he clung to your mother the entire way through, only signified how much she was his strength.

Sam had cried, clinging to your sister in much the same way. Jessica was always an overly emotional girl, and with the pregnancy hormones in her system, it was only worse. She remained close to your parents, with Sam on her other side.

On the complete other end of the spectrum, Dean stood a little way away from everyone else, next to his brother. His eyes remained fixed on one spot through the eulogies and prayers, like he was a statue. When it came to the burial, he walked alone, not accepting any condolences from anyone, remaining stoic.

Watching John’s coffin being lowered into the ground, next to the grave of his wife, was one of the hardest things you’d ever experienced. As the priest said the final sermon, the air grew thicker, and droplets of rain began to scatter across the grass and stones. It got heavier within seconds, and umbrellas went up all around you, as people fled for their cars.

Your parents remained for a few moments, until your mother burst into tears, and your fathered ushered her away, his turn to be their strength for a while. Jess spoke quietly to Sam, turning away hand in hand with him to follow your parents. Only you and Dean remained, silent, even as the priest walked away.

Neither of you spoke for a good long while. There was at least two feet of space between you, and when his fingers suddenly touched yours, it made you jump. You looked down, seeing his dripping fingers lace through yours, and you felt like you’d forgotten how to breathe.

Dean Winchester was crying, his tears masked by the rain, but not enough to stop you from seeing. As if instinct was driving your movements, you pulled him close, embracing him, your wet clothing clinging to his as he sobbed into your shoulder.

There were still no words between you, as you stood there, in the rain, holding onto each other. The cemetery was emptying as the cars pulled away, and your mom wound down the window of hers, motioning for you to get in. You shook your head, trying to silently imply that you were remaining with Dean until he was ready to leave. Luckily, your mother understood, giving you a soft smile that was blurred by the thick rain.

The storm stopped as suddenly as it had started, and the clouds parted to allow a little sunlight through. It glinted off of all the wet surfaces, making the grass appear as if it were sparkling with glitter. Dean pulled back, sniffing, his hair dripping down into his face. “Thank you,” he whispered.

You smiled up at him, cupping his soaked cheek with one hand. “You’re cold,” you replied, stroking your thumb underneath his eye, and Dean huffed a little laugh, returning your smile. His hand came up, covering yours.

“You’re cold too.”

“Maybe we should go home?” you suggested, and he nodded, but didn’t let go of your hand. The two of you walked in silence out of the cemetery, through the large iron gates onto the main street. None of the cars remained, but it was only a couple of blocks to your house anyway.

Approaching your house, it was easy to see the crowds of people on the porch, and cars parked all the way up the side of the road. Dean hesitated at your side, his wariness of large crowds rearing its head. Despite the fact that he covered himself with tattoos and piercings, he didn’t like being the focus of attention.

And being the focus of grief was… more than he could handle, you would have guessed.

“Let’s go to your place first,” you murmured, holding his arm tightly, smiling at him. “Get out of those wet clothes.”

“What about you?” he asked, frowning, locking his eyes on yours. “You don’t have anything at my house.”

“We’ll worry about me later,” you replied, rubbing his arm as you guided him to the rear of his house. No one would notice you slip in the side door, and before you knew it, you were upstairs in Dean’s room, wondering why he still had posters of Pamela Anderson on his wall.

“Can I get you a drink or anything?” Dean asked, scrubbing his hand over the back of his head. “And yeah, the decor is a little… I’ve been meaning to do something about it -”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s cool. My room’s still pink with the cloud wallpaper.” His relieved smile warmed you a little. “I guess we could all do with a little growing up, huh? How about something with a percentage?” The subject change was swift, but Dean seemed grateful for it, smiling and disappearing out of the room.

Shifting in your wet clothes, you unbuttoned the cardigan, dropping it into Dean’s laundry basket so it didn’t make a puddle on the floor or make anything else wet. Your dress was thin, and would probably dry quickly, but your underwear was also saturated, and taking those off wasn’t on your list of things to do in Dean’s bedroom.

Not right now, anyway.

“Here,” Dean said, entering the room once more, holding out a tumbler of whiskey. “You like it straight, right?”

“Normally,” you replied, taking the drink. “Should we toast or something?”

“Is that a grown up thing?” he teased, and you giggled, lifting the glass to your lips. His eyes were on yours as you both drank the fifth, hissing at the burn as it worked its way down your throats. “Guess Dad won’t be shouting at me for raiding his liquor cabinet anymore,” Dean mused, looking at the empty glass. His voice was even, but you knew he was using humor to cover up his feelings.

Losing his dad was breaking him apart.

“Dean?” you asked, stepping closer, placing your empty glass on his dresser. “You’re gonna be okay.” The words were almost hollow in your throat, because you didn’t know if you were lying or not. But Dean stared at you like you held the answers, and you wanted to hope that you weren’t. “You still have Sam. Jess. My parents.” You swallowed around nothing, stopping less than an inch from him, the kind smile on your face making your lips quiver. “Me.”

It was only the third time you’d kissed him. But it seemed like the first time all over again. His lips were plump, warm, the scent and taste of whiskey lingering on them to match yours. Fingers crawled around your waist, holding your body firmly against his, and you couldn’t help but moan. The thin slacks he was wearing did nothing to contain his quickening arousal, and you felt every inch swell against your belly through the dress.

“Want you so much,” Dean growled, his hands hard enough on your skin to bruise, but you couldn’t come up with a logical argument as to why you should refuse. Nights of dreaming about his hands on your body were nothing in comparison to the reality, even though you’d tried to push those dreams away.

Maybe it was the whiskey.

Maybe it was the grief, the emotionally charged atmosphere.

Maybe it was something that had been lingering since you’d first met the sullen little boy with the bright green eyes, who didn’t like your dollhouse.

Your nails raked down his back through his wet shirt, and you gasped as he kissed a path down your jaw, stopping to suck a dark mark into your throat. It sent a thrill through you, straight to your core, and you responded by grinding your hips into his. His name left your lips in a strangled whimper, just as Dean dragged down your summer dress and bra, capturing your nipple in his mouth as soon as it was free.

His fingers were under your thighs, lifting you up against him before you could object - not that you would have. He carried you towards his bed, dropping you onto the covers before covering your body with his own, continuing his assault on your breasts. You arched and whined, desperate for more, spreading your thighs as his fingers pushed up and underneath your skirt.

“So warm,” he muttered, releasing your breast only to kiss you again, fingers grazing lightly over the soaked cotton of your panties, teasing your folds through the fabric. “Y/N….”

The pad of his thumb pressed into your clit, and sensation exploded, making you cry out against his mouth. Dean chuckled, repeating the action, drawing circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves until your thighs were quivering, your cries growing louder. Only then, did he stop, dragging your panties to one side, kissing along your throat as he eased one thick finger into you.

“Oh god,” you choked, feeling him crook the finger to seek the one place that would make you see stars. He groaned as your walls flexed around him, slicking his skin with your juices. “Dean, I’m gonna -”

“Then come,” he snarled, sucking your nipple into his mouth again, and you screamed, finding his hand over your mouth to silence you. You rode the orgasm out, letting your eyes fall shut, everything centering on the movements of Dean’s single finger buried in your cunt.

When it passed, he released you, standing from the bed, and you groaned, panting through the aftermath of your climax. You watched him with lidded eyes, as he started to unbutton the dress shirt, removing the tie with a scowl when it impeded his progress.

“Dean?” you asked, and he raised his head to look at you.

“Yeah?”

You reached down, peeling your panties down your thighs and over your knees, keeping your eyes on his as you flicked them off and across the room. “Fuck me?” It was supposed to be a question, but even you were surprised at the way it sounded. Dean grinned like a wolf, stripping his shirt off without care for the buttons anymore, and his pants were quick to follow.

He fell on you, hands pushing your dress up higher and higher, until you were wiggling to get it over your head. You pushed up on you elbows, bending to unhook your bra, throwing that into the unknown reaches of his bedroom, before smiling at him wickedly.

Dean’s eyes drank you in like you were land to a drowning man. His hands cupped your breasts, massaging them in his thick fingers. He dragged his palms down, over your belly, down to your thighs, where he applied a little pressure. You complied instantly, spreading your legs for him, letting him see you, bare to his gaze.

A simple “fuck” fell from his lips, and he moved, dipping his head to lick at your soaked pussy, teasing his tongue through your folds until he reached your still-throbbing clit. He trailed a circle around it, then dipped back down, settling onto his forearms, as he thrust his tongue into you.

You arched, gasping at the sensation of his tongue fucking into you, his fingers holding your cunt open for his use. It was all too much and not enough all at once - you wanted to feel him inside you.

“Dean,” you pleaded, and he raised his head, licking his lips. “Please, need you -”

“Need me where, sweetheart?” he asked, lapping at you again. “Here?” One finger pushed into you, giving you a brief second of blissful pleasure, before he pulled out again. You nodded desperately, and he pushed himself up, nuzzling at your belly as he travelled upwards once more. “You want my cock inside you, baby?”

Again, you nodded, clutching his shoulders as he rotated his hips, teasing you with the fleeting touch of his cockhead against your pussy. “Dean!” 

“God, waited so long to hear you cry my name like that,” he muttered, smashing his mouth against yours, silencing any further pleas. He slowly pushed forward, opening you up with his thick cock, stopping an inch in to pull back, using your natural lubrication to ease his way.

He was thick - thicker than you’d been used to - and long. You’d had toys of a similar size, which you’d never used because of the discomfort, but this felt nothing like them. Maybe it was because he was real, and warm, throbbing between your legs like he was trying to match your heartbeat with his own. He groaned as his hips came flush with the inside of your thighs, holding himself there to savor the feeling of your pussy surrounding him.

You forced yourself to keep your eyes open, watching him as he panted above you, his arms shaking with the effort of staying still. Your body coiled, flexing around him, and Dean groaned, his eyes snapping open.

“Shit, we didn’t use -”

A shake of your head silenced him. “I’m on birth control,” you whispered, moving your hands to cup his face. Whiskey made your head full with cotton, and the lazy smile you gave him was almost drunken. “Dean, I need you to fuck me.”

The noise he made was guttural, and he kissed you once more, leveraging more of his weight onto your body and his knees as he drew back, slamming home with a force than made you tear away from his lips and scream.

He didn’t bother covering your mouth, too busy making his own pornographic noises, but the house had thick walls, and you didn’t particularly care if anyone heard. Dean’s cock was touching places inside you that you’d never felt, almost to the point of pain, but not quite. It was a comfortable edge to walk, one that was twisting your insides with pleasure you weren’t sure could ever be matched.

“Fuck,” Dean grunted, gasping as your pussy tightened around him, and you lifted your legs to wrap them around his waist. The slight change in angle had him slamming into your g-spot, and you cried out, pulsating around his length. “I’m gonna come,” he groaned, his eyes almost rolling back in his head. His thrusts became staggered, longer, and then he was coming, hard and warm into you, filling you to the brim. As he rode it out, he dropped his head to your breasts, fanning hot breath across your belly, his body heaving with each labored breath.

Neither of you spoke for a few minutes, until Dean’s quiet sobs filled the air. Almost immediately, you lifted his head, and he broke away from you, rolling onto his back beside you. You lay there, watching him stare at the ceiling, feeling his come dribbling from your pussy down onto the comforter.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” His voice was hoarse, and he didn’t look at you.

“What did you mean, that you’ve waited so long?” It probably wasn’t the best question after someone had just fucked your brains out, but your mind was still catching up after the intense climax you’d experienced.

Dean went quiet, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. “We should get over to your house. People will notice us missing.”

“Is that a bad thing?” you teased, but the mirth didn’t seem to register with him. “Dean, I -”

He rolled off the bed, standing straight, swiping a pair of boxers from seemingly nowhere. “We really should get back,” he muttered. “I’ll meet you downstairs.” You sat up, frowning, unsure what you’d done wrong, or why he’d suddenly gone cold. His naked back was the only answer you got as you watched him leave, tears threatening to spill from your already sore eyes.

What the hell had just happened?

*****


	13. Chapter 13

By the time you’d gathered yourself together enough and dressed, your emotions had worked up into a tumble of confusion and anger. Self-doubt plagued you, and you fled the Winchester house without even bothering to wait for Dean. It was easy to slip through the back door of your own house, swiftly escaping to your bedroom to change into less drenched clothes.

When you came downstairs, Dean was nowhere to be seen, and your mother immediately accosted you, asking if he was okay.

“He’s fine, I think,” you mumbled in reply, swiping a glass of something alcohol from the table, uncaring what it was. Your nose crinkled as the bubbles tickled your throat, and your mom eyed you in concern. “What?”

“He drove off. Took the Impala. Sam chased after him, but -”

The frown on your face was deep, and you could feel fresh tears in the corners of your eyes. Dean hadn’t followed you over to the wake, and had left. Well, that certainly spoke volumes. “Where did he go?”

“We don’t know,” Sam interjected, his eyes red rimmed from crying. Your sister was on his arm, looking tired and lost. “What did he say to you?”

Embarrassment flushed through your system, and you shrugged, unsure what to say. Everyone was looking at you expectantly, and you hugged yourself, conscious of their gazes on you. “He was quiet. We had a drink, and he… we… I mean, he said he was coming over here…” You trailed off, avoiding everyone’s eyes, and your mom smiled, rubbing your shoulder softly.

“It’s okay, sweetie. He probably just needed to cool off.” You hoped that was all he was doing. “Let’s just take a moment and breathe.”

Jess detached from Sam, giving him a look as she glided to your side, pulling you off into the corridor, away from everyone else. “Y/N… what happened?” She stared at you, her expression imploring, and you crumbled to pieces right there.

“I don’t know, Jess. We… something happened and we…”

Her eyes went wide. “Did you sleep with him?”

“There wasn’t any sleeping,” you scoffed, wiping furiously at your eyes. “It was like, five minutes, and then he just… went cold on me. I got upset and… I left.” Jess searched your face, sympathy clouding hers, and then she pulled you into a hug. You couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

“It’s okay, Y/N, it’s okay. He’s probably a mess, with everything,” she soothed. “I’m sure he just needs some time.” All you could do was nod and agree, trying to stifle your tears. 

The wake quietened down, and by 10pm, everyone had left the house, leaving you and you family to clear up. You busied yourself, helping your mom with the dishes, absolutely not glancing out of the windows every five minutes to see if Dean had come back. By midnight, everything was cleared away, and you excused yourself, heading up to your bedroom, stroking Crowley on your way, who had opted to sleep on the landing.

Undressing, you slipping into a pair of thin cotton panties and a vest, pausing when you heard the telltale rumble of the Impala next door. It was unbidden, the speed with which you carried yourself to your bedroom window, peering out to check he was okay.

The Impala was in the driveway, parked with the lights still on. Dean was in the driver’s seat… and he wasn’t alone. His head was thrown back, one arm resting outside the open window, and the other…

...the other was fisted in blonde hair, her face hidden as she clearly went to town on his cock, and you could hear the sounds she was making.

You’d always wondered if your heart could break any more, and this was your answer. Dean looked up, his eyes meeting yours, or so you thought, and he didn’t do anything except continue to fuck the mouth of the random woman he’d picked up.

Tears were easy to come, falling hot and wet down your cheeks, and you shut the window, pulling back as if it were on fire. You wanted to scream and thrash, and destroy everything in your room, but your legs gave out, sending you tumbling to the floor, your hands covering your face like they could stop the tears.

And that was where you passed out, on the faded pink rug of your childhood bedroom, where you’d left all your dreams behind for nothing.

*****

“Y/N.”

Soft hands grasped your shoulders, and you woke with a gasp, sitting up and instantly groaning in pain. Your muscles had cramped from the uncomfortable sleeping position on the floor, and you wiped at your eyes.

“Y/N?” Jess was knelt beside you, looking worried as hell at the state of you. “What happened?”

You couldn’t help it; you burst into tears again as the night before came back to you, fresh pain making your stomach churn. Jess pulled you into a hug, soothing you, her hands cradling your back as you cried into the fabric of her robe. 

“Sweetie…” she whispered, pulling back to look down at you. “What the hell happened?”

“Dean,” you gulped, sniffling pathetically. “He was… I saw him last night. He came back with a woman and they were… they were…” No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t force the words out, but Jess seemed to pick up on what you were trying to say, her expression hardening.

“Oh honey.” The embrace resumed, and you weren’t sure how long you sat there, crying into your little sister’s arms, but by the time she coaxed you to your feet, your legs were sore, your eyes were red rimmed and your throat felt like it was on fire.

You didn’t have any fight to give as she urged you into the bathroom, readying the shower for you, telling you that she’d get breakfast sorted. It was like moving on autopilot, standing under the spray and washing methodically, still feeling the soreness between your thighs where Dean had fucked you the day before.

Had he even showered before he’d…

It was too much to think of.

Dressing in sweats and a t-shirt, you dragged yourself down the stairs, eating the bacon and eggs Jess had prepared for you without speaking, oblivious to the bustling of your parents around you. Sam was asleep on the couch in the lounge, something trashy playing on the television in the background.

“We’re heading out,” your mom announced, catching your attention by clicking her fingers. You raised an ashen face to her, making her frown in concern, but Jess was there, saving the day.

“It’s okay, mom. You go and enjoy your day with dad. I’ll kept the house in one piece.” 

Your eyes dropped back down to the food you’d barely touched, hearing the door click shut, and Jess slid onto the stool next to yours. She tucked her tongue behind her teeth as she saw how little you’d eaten, before nudging you with her shoulder.

“Hey, you need to eat more than that.”

You nodded, picking up a piece of bacon, staring at it thoughtfully. “Do you think I even mattered to him?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “Or was I just convenient?”

Jess sighed, shrugging. “Dean’s always been a closed book. I… I mean, I know he liked you. For a long time. But you always seemed so… abrasive towards him.” She tilted her head as she contemplated you, and you nibbled on the bacon thoughtfully. “We always joked that it was a thin line between love and hate. You always had some sort of feelings for him.” Jess paused again, waiting for you to finish the bacon. “But you have just come out of a pretty long and serious relationship.”

“Serious on my end, anyway,” you muttered, swallowing your mouthful. “I guess that must be my type. Men who prefer blondes.”

“That’s not true,” Jess pressed, and you laughed without a trace of humor. “Y/N, Dean’s just lost his dad. He’s in a messed up place, and he’s gonna make mistakes.”

“This seems pretty intentional to be a mistake,” you seethed, anger rising to replace the numbness. “He looked at me, Jess. He fucking  _ looked _ at me, while he had his cock in some other woman’s mouth, hours after he’d fucked me.”

The sound of a throat clearing made both of you turn, seeing Sam sat up on the couch, looking towards you in bewilderment. “Wow. Dean?” Jess nodded, and Sam groaned. “Do I need to go kick his ass?”

“No,” you spat, standing up, not wanting anything else to eat. “I’m going out.”

“Y/N -” Jess started, but you cut her off, shaking your head.

“I’m fine. I just need some time to… seethe.”

*****

Seething turned into shopping, and by mid-morning, you had a car full of decorating supplies and flat-pack furniture. When you arrived home, Jess and Sam’s car was gone, and your parents were still out. Dean’s car was still on the driveway, and you grit your teeth as you unloaded the car, hoping he wouldn’t come outside.

You still weren’t sure you weren’t going to punch him when you saw him. Luckily, he didn’t emerge, and you unpacked the car, carrying your purchases into the house.

When your parents returned a few hours later, the sun was dipping over the horizon, and you didn’t even notice your astonished mother stood in the doorway to your room.

“So, you’re staying then?” your dad commented, leaning in over his wife’s shoulder.

“For now,” you replied, carefully hooking the curtains back onto the holder. “Needed to do something.”

“Clearly,” he muttered, taking in the room, before shrugging and walking off. He’d always been the more relaxed out of your parents, whereas your mother still stood on the spot, her mouth open as she looked around. Crowley chirped, yawned and stretched from the spot he’d claimed among the old fabrics you’d torn out from the room.

Gone were the pinks and clouds and reminders of the old you - the teenaged you that had hopes and dreams, still thinking of a happily ever after. You’d repainted the walls, choosing a deep shape of purple, matched with a lighter shade for the feature wall opposite your bed. The cuddly toys and other knick-knacks you’d gathered over the years had been sorted into boxes, one for Goodwill and the other for ones you couldn’t bear to part with. Only one stuffed animal remained - the giraffe you’d had since you’d come home with your parents that first day.

“It looks…” Your mom paused, trying to find the right word. “Very grown up.”

“That’s the point,” you retorted, climbing down from the later. The thick blackout curtains were lined in purple, solid color to finish the room. You’d even bought new drawers, a new desk, and new bed covers. Your old bed was still fit for purpose, although you probably needed a new mattress.

“What brought this on?” your mom asked, moving further into the room, taking a seat at the end of your currently messy bed.

You shrugged, not willing to tell her the real reason. She sighed, picking up the giraffe, plucking at its ears.

“I remember when we first brought you home,” she said, her eyes a little misty. “You were so tiny - they had to keep you in NICU for a little while. Your birth mother… she was very ill, and they were worried you’d picked up an infection.” It was a story you’d heard many times before. Young, single mother, living on the streets, couldn’t fight the sickness she’d picked up from god-knows-what. Your parents had never hidden the truth from you, and you were forever grateful that they were the family who’d picked you. “The newborn clothes we had didn’t even fit, and we had no idea what we were actually doing.”

“You did good, Mom,” you whispered, stopping what you were doing and moving to kneel in front of her. “You really did.”

She sniffed, nodding. “I’m so proud of both you girls. You’re so strong, and Jessica is so nurturing. I don’t know how we managed to raise such independent, beautiful women.” She reached out, cupping your cheek in one hand. “You could have easily fallen apart with everything that happened in Phoenix. But you’re here. Adapting yourself, like you always did.” You smiled back, leaning into her touch. “I love you so much. I’m glad you’ve decided to stay for a while. Your dad will be too. He misses having you both home.”

The smile didn’t waver from your face as you stood up. “So you’re not mad I decided to decorate?”

“Not at all,” your mom laughed, handing you the giraffe. “Just try not to demolish the house.”

*****

Sam and Jess flew back home a couple of days later, both of them tearful as you and your mom accompanied them to the airport. Jess promised to Skype at least once a week, and you found it hard to relinquish your hold on her as you hugged her. Sam had given you a look, hugging you just as tightly, whispering in your ear not to give up on his stupid big brother.

You’d been unable to think of anything else on the drive home.

“When are you starting at the office?” your mom asked, turning the car onto your home street, not looking at you as she posed the question. “Not that I’m rushing you out to work,” she added, laughing a little.

“I’m probably gonna start back next Monday. Go in with Dad. It’ll save on travel.” You picked at a thread on your trousers, contemplating another shopping trip for clothes. Most of your work things were a little unsuitable for the unpredictable Kansas weather - Phoenix had been hot all year round, so you needed some thicker pants and probably sweaters.

And shoes.

Oh, shoes would make you feel better. At least for a little while.

“Oh, looks like Dean is still home,” your mom commented, pulling the car into the driveway, and you couldn’t help but look. The Impala hadn’t moved in days. Sam had gone over to the house once or twice, but had come back fuming each time, and you couldn’t help but think that maybe Dean was wallowing in alcohol and picking fights with anyone who came along. “He must be lonely in that house all by himself. Maybe we should invite him over for dinner?”

You shook your head, scoffing. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Well, at least take him over a lasagna when I’ve cooked it later?” she suggested, and you looked at her with horror on your face.

“Why do I have to do it?”

She looked a little puzzled at that. “You’re his friend, aren’t you?” You stuttered, unsure how to reply to that, and your mother simply smiled. “It’ll only take you a couple of minutes. Dean needs his friends right now.”

Oh, how right she was.

It was dark by the time dinner was done, and the fresh lasagna that was placed in your hands was still seeping warmth through the towel you cradled it in. Of course, Dean didn’t answer the door, so you bent down, seeking out the spare key. He hadn’t moved it, and you let yourself in, padding through the house in your sneakers, not bothering to call his name.

Your intention was to leave the food in the oven with a note, but obviously, fate was not on your side that day. As you scribbled out a message and dropped it on the counter, you turned to find Dean standing at the doorway, wearing a shirt three sizes too big for him, and cargo pants that had gone out of fashion ten years before.

“Dean…” you exclaimed, shocked at the sight of him.

His hair was a mess, flat on one side and sticking up on the other. Bags lined his eyes, indicating the lack of sleep, and one of his gauges was missing. “Your mom feeding me again?”

You nodded, stepping a little closer to him. “She’s worried about you.” It was habit to suck your bottom lip between your teeth, eyeing him cautiously, remembering all too clearly how angry you’d been.

“You’re not?” he asked, his voice a little croaky, and you smelt the alcohol on him, which made you crinkle your nose involuntarily. “I mean, I wouldn’t blame you for not worrying.”

So, he acknowledged his actions. It didn’t seem like he was going to apologize to you though. “I’m sorry, Dean. I gotta go. I just came over to drop off the -”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, stepping into your path. “What I did… I wasn’t thinking straight. My head was… is… messed up, and I’m just…”

You stared at him, unsure how to accept the apology. Forcing a tight lipped smile onto your face, you swallowed down the bile in your throat, ignoring the tears pricking at your eyes. The sight of him in the car, some unknown blonde’s head in his lap, returned to the forefront of your mind, and you wavered for a split second. “No. It’s fine. I get it. It was a release, right? We both needed it, no harm done.”  _ Stop, stop, stop, _ your head was chanting, but you couldn’t, even when it looked like he might cry. “What are friends for?”

Dean didn’t say anything, and you slipped around him, feeling your hands shake as you headed towards the door. “We’re friends,” he stated, making you pause with the door halfway open. It wasn’t a question, and it didn’t sound like a happy statement.

Swallowing, you look back at him, a watery smile threatening to turn into sobs. You had to leave. “We’re friends,” you repeated, trying to make it clear that you wouldn’t let your guard down again. Dean gave you a sharp nod, before turning away, and you abandoned him, running back to your house as fast as your legs could carry you.

Friends.

Friends wasn’t what you wanted.

Decorating your room had only smothered the pain, the constant rejection, the way Dean had dismissed you and gone to someone else, someone that  _ wasn’t _ you… just like Adam. There was something else you needed to fix about you, something that drove people away.

It didn’t even cross your mind that you were absolutely, one hundred percent, in love with the boy next door.


	14. Chapter 14

The next day, you were out before either of your parents were up, heading into town. After cancelling the apartment viewings, in lieu of staying with your mom and dad a little longer, you called into the salon, grabbing the last appointment for that afternoon.

Your next stop was the tattoo parlour on Main. It was quiet, and the burly tattooed gent at the desk looked up as the bell above the door jingled. Surprisingly, his face was familiar to you, and he grinned as he greeted you. “Y/N. What a pleasure.”

“Benny?” You blinked in shock, noting how he’d changed. He was covered, head to toe in tattoos, with a thick piercing through one eyebrow. “I didn’t know you stayed in town.”

He chuckled. “I thought you’d moved to Phoenix.”

“It didn’t work out,” you shrugged, sliding closer to the counter. “So, you’re a tattoo artist now? What happened to the football?”

Benny stood up, giving you a bright smile. “Torn ligaments. But art was always my passion, cher.” He motioned to the wall, where numerous examples of work were displayed. “When Lolita’s packed up, I took over the premises, channelled everything into it. And we’re doing pretty good.” He paused, cocking an eyebrow at you. “So how can I help you today?”

“Er,” you hesitated, suddenly unsure of yourself. “I was actually looking to get a tattoo. I have one… maybe you could suggest a design to me?”

He grinned, nodding. “I can certainly help with that. I’ve only got one appointment today, if you wanna stick around? We can draw you something up, get started right away?”

You blinked, not expecting to face doing it right away, but hell, you may as well seize the opportunity. “Yeah, sure. That’d be great.” The smile on your face was genuine as Benny led you through to the back of the shop, where his studio was neatly set up. He’d certainly done a lot of work, if the pictures on the walls were anything to go by. “Oh wow,” you murmured, spotting an intricate design with roses and tribal markings. “These are really good, Benny.”

“Thanks, cher,” he replied, digging around in a drawer, pulling out a set of pencils and a pad of paper. “Where were you thinking?”

Looking down, you stared at your bare forearms. “Maybe here?” you suggested, running your fingers over the smooth skin of your left arm. “I’m right handed, so the left would be better, right?” Benny nodded, taking your arm and inspecting it. His fingers were soft and warm, and you couldn’t help the little nervous shudder that ran through you.

“Looks good to me,” he muttered, looking up at you with lidded eyes, the smirk on his face almost sinful. “Anything particular you’re wantin’?”

You thought, looking at the pictures on the wall. “Something with flowers. And colour. But… I don’t know, kinda gothic? Not like, skulls and stuff but…”

“I got ya,” he said, releasing your arm, and motioning to the chair behind him. “Why don’t you take a seat? We can catch up while I sketch you something.”

*****

You felt a little self-conscious as you walked home, nervously running your fingers through your hair. The day had been productive - one shopping bag full of new shoes and clothes, and even some lingerie. Plastic wrap covered your arm where the freshly inked design throbbed with the pain you’d been expecting. It was bigger than you’d originally intended, but Benny had been confident in the design, and you’d ended up falling in love with it; he was an actual artist. He’d only charged you half rate for it too, as you were old friends.

Something told you that Benny’s affections hadn’t ended after prom.

Your appointment at the salon was a success, although it was like looking at a stranger in the mirror. The hairdresser had taken off a good chunk of length from your hair, removing all the split ends where you just hadn’t bothered in a while, and layered it through with streaks of color, enough to be bold but not enough to look unprofessional.

The tattoo would do enough of that for you.

As you approached your house, you saw Dean, bent over the hood of his Impala, working away at something. He was wearing a tank and thin sweats, that clung to his every muscle, and you swallowed thickly before quickening your pace. It was chance that he looked up and saw you, and his eyes went wide at your changed appearance.

Your mom opened the door before you’d even hit the porch, almost dropping the bag of trash she was taking out at the sight of you. Her mouth fell open, and you gave her a smile, stepping onto the porch with a little gesture. “Ta da?” you quipped, and her shocked expression turned to a smile.

“You look different. Good different,” she said, standing out of the way. “Any reason for it?”

You shrugged, entering the house. “Just needed to work on me. Externally.” She didn’t reply, and you heard the screen door bang for a second, and when she came back in, you were in the living room, digging through your bag of purchases. “I bought new shoes.”

Her eyes narrowed as she spotted the wrap on your arm. “Y/N… did you get a tattoo?”

Offering up your arm, you slowly peeled the plastic off, wincing at the bruising from the ink. “Yeah. What do you think?”

Your mom looked dubious. “It’s very pretty but -”

“Mom, I’m nearly twenty-nine. I can get a tattoo.”

“I know, I know. But… this seems like a rebellious phase. The bedroom, the hair… I was expecting this when you were sixteen.” She paused, frowning with concern. “Should I be expecting one of those funny nose rings?”

You laughed loudly, shaking your head. “No, Mom. Honestly, I’ve wanted to get another tattoo for ages, and -”

“Another?!” she squeaked, and you remembered that you hadn’t told her about your college experimentation. Slowly, you turned, lifting your shirt to show her the delicate branch of ivy that curled along your lower back. It was faded with age, but you didn’t hate it. “Oh. That’s pretty.”

“See? And I can still look professional and everything. I just… I needed to do this.”

For a few moments, your mom didn’t speak, but then she took your arm, inspecting the intricate design of roses, lilies and ravens that Benny had etched permanently into your skin. “It is very beautiful. Did you go to Benny’s shop?”

You narrowed your eyes. “How did you know Benny had a shop?”

Your mom laughed. “Oh, honey. I still go to book club with his mom. She’s very proud of his artwork. Did you know he sold a painting the other week for $25,000?” She gave you a sly look. “And he’s still single. Didn’t he take you to prom?”

“Mom -” you warned, and she waved you off.

“Look, I just want to see you happy and settled. You could have your pick of any guy, sweetie.”

“You say that, but I don’t see Hugh Jackman knocking on my door,” you retorted, picking up your bag of goodies. 

The noise your mom made was enough to make you grimace. “If he did, you’d have competition. I do like a bit of Wolverine.”

“Mom!” You turned away in disgust, heading for your room. Her laugh chased you up the stairs, and didn’t stop until you’d shut your door. Crowley peered down at you from the top of the wardrobe in the corner, before jumping down to greet you. “Hey, boy. How was your day?” He sniffed at your arm as you sat on the bed, looking highly unimpressed with your new adornment. “Well, you don’t have to live with it,” you commented, and he meowed quietly, before strolling away to the pillows.

The sound of an engine starting echoed up through your open window, followed by a whoop of celebration, and curiosity got the better of you. You stood, pushing the curtain to the side and watching as Dean finished up with whatever he was doing on the car, slamming her hood shut. Almost as if he sensed you watching, he turned, looking up at you with those bright eyes, making you shiver and bolt away like you’d been caught doing something wrong.

You moved back to the bed, emptying your shopping bag onto the covers, and the card from Benny’s tattoo parlour fell out, emblazoned with his personal number in blue biro. Picking it up, you stared at it, remembering his last words as he’d wrapped you up from the ink.

It took a few seconds to type in his number, and you fired off a message to him, biting your lip the whole time. You had to move on, and find something good in life, and with Dean the way he was… you couldn’t put stock in a relationship you had no faith in. Benny would be a good distraction, and you’d make it clear to him that it wasn’t anything serious.

_ About what you said earlier. I’d love to go to dinner with you. Xxx Y/N xxx _

The text sent, and a second later, you had confirmation in the corner of your screen. It took a minute or so for him to reply, and you could feel your heart thumping as you waited.

_ Free tomorrow night? Xxx _

You smiled, glancing up at Crowley, who was stretched out across the pillows, uncaring of what you were doing. “I’m going on a date, little man!” you exclaimed, only for him to open one eye, then promptly shut it again.

_ Pick me up at seven? Xxx _

Dropping your phone, you went through the things you’d bought today, holding up the little black dress with spaghetti straps. It was thick dark fabric until mid-thigh, when it turned into sheer lace, dropping down to make a show of being a gown, but you’d wanted it as soon as you saw it. And you were certain Benny would love it too. As if on cue, your phone pinged.

_ Sure thing. See you then xxx _

*****

The next day dragged, and you busied yourself with sorting out the final bits in your revamped room. Your mom had gone out, and your dad was keeping himself occupied in the garden shed, which meant you mostly had the house to yourself. 

Once you’d finished clearing out more crap for the Goodwill box, you decided that pampering yourself would not go amiss. You cleaned your freshly healing tattoo, covering it before running yourself a hot bath, with the bubbles that Jenn had sent you for your last birthday. They smelt rich and relaxing, scents of cinnamon and patchouli mixing together to fill the bathroom with a sensuous steam, which made the bath all the more enticing.

You picked up the small portable stereo that had been with you since junior high, placing it on the toilet seat and pressing play, smiling when the first few strums of Led Zeppelin's “In My Time Of Dying” filtered through the little speakers, sounding a little on the tinny side from the age of the old stereo. Slipping your clothes off, you turned off the main bathroom light, before locking the door and leaving just the illuminated spotlights on the mirror switched on.

The water was hot and perfect, and you groaned as you sank down into the bubbles, feeling the tingle travel along your skin. Letting your eyes fall shut, you smiled, enjoying a moment of peace in the aftermath of the previous few weeks.

By the time your dad woke you by knocking on the door, your fingers were wrinkled, and the water was bordering on cold. “Give me a second!” you called, and your father chuckled on the other side of the door. You emptied the tub, wrapping a towel around yourself, clicking the stereo off.

Your dad was smiling when you opened the door to him. “Just checking you haven’t drowned. Your mother used to fall asleep in the tub all the time.”

You grinned a little sheepishly. “Did you need the bathroom?”

“No, no, just checking,” he replied, turning away. “I’m assuming you have a hot date this evening?”

“I don’t know if I want to talk about that with you,” you pointed out, closing the door a little more, only to hear your dad laughing. He was teasing, and you knew it, but it made you happy to hear him laughing again. He’d been so withdrawn recently, and it was nice to see your dad’s true character shining through the grief he’d suffered.

Benny turned up at seven on the dot, ringing the doorbell - which your dad answered before you could get to it. It was like a replay of prom, except this time you had no trouble ushering your dad away, and Benny was a little more relaxed than the terrified teenager he had been.

“You look beautiful,” he breathed, taking in the long dress, the sheer material. Obviously the three hours of primping and pampering had done the trick, and you couldn’t help but blush at the compliment. “How’s the arm?”

“Peeling a little,” you admitted, holding it out for him to check. He traced his fingers over the raised bumps of ink, pursing his lips and nodding. “But it doesn’t hurt. I put some more of that cream you gave me on it, and didn’t get it wet.”

“Good girl,” Benny purred, looking up at you, and you felt the blush in your cheeks grow. “Shall we?” He held the door open for you, waiting for you to step onto the porch, before leading you down to the refurbished Ford truck that he’d told you about the day before. You graciously bowed your head when he opened the passenger side door for you, and you settled in the leather seat, clasping your hands together.

It was by pure chance you glanced up at the dark house next to yours, and spotted Dean on the stoop, his knees drawn up to his chest as he watched you carefully. Your breath caught in your throat, and you barely noticed the truck shake as Benny climbed in, slamming the door.

“Ready to go, cher?” he asked, distracting your attention away from Dean. You slid a smile onto your face, giving it all the effort you could muster, and nodded. Benny didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, and pulled the vehicle away from the sidewalk, and away from Dean.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fourteen**

It was possible you hadn’t been on a date with a man this attentive in… ever. Benny had picked out the best steak restaurant in Kansas, or so he claimed, and you couldn’t deny the food was good. He was calm and relaxed, and put you at ease, as well as putting thoughts of Dean and your previous heartbreak out of your mind.

He’d chatted for most of the evening, telling you about art school and his paintings, and the success of the tattoo parlor. By the time the main course was finished, he’d started to ask questions about you. 

“So, Phoenix must have been an exciting move, huh?”

You shrugged, picking up your glass of wine, swirling it a little before taking a sip. “It was okay. Not much of an adventure. I didn’t exactly make many friends.”

“Didn’t you have a fella out that way?” he asked, and your cheeks flamed. Benny seemed to pick up on that straight away, and gave you an apologetic smile. “Sorry, rough subject. My mom and your mom…”

“Gossip,” you filled in for him, laughing slightly. “I know. These old ladies.” You swallowed, leaning on the table with your elbows. “Adam was… not what I wanted in the end. I think I was forcing it, because let’s face it, our parents really expect us to have settled down by now.”

Benny gave a chuckle, nodding as he pulled his napkin from his lap and folded it into a rectangle, placing it on his empty plate. “Oh yeah. I keep gettin’ it. You should have seen her face when I told her I was takin’ you out.”

“Me?” You laughed nervously, shaking your head. “I’m nothing special.”

He quirked an eyebrow, leaning forward a little. “To be honest, I always thought you and Dean had a thing going.” You spluttered at that, unsure how to answer, but Benny was already waving it off. “But then you moved away, and he was with that Lisa chick… she was a piece of work.”

The conversation moved to gossip about former school mates, and you forgot Dean all over again, enjoying Benny’s easy company and jokes. It was a pleasant evening, and by the end of the bottle of wine, you were slightly buzzing, but ready to go home.

Benny drove you back, parking on the kerb outside your house, turning the engine off and looking over at you. “It really was a pleasure, Y/N. Maybe… we could do this again some time?”

You weren’t sure where the urge came from, and later, you would mull it over, deciding it was the wine and the good time you’d had. But Benny was still a handsome guy, and you weren’t going to regret leaning into him, pressing your lips to his in a soft, warm kiss. He was so different to the other men you’d known… easier… less complicated and less drama.

“I would love that,” you whispered, before sliding backwards out of the truck. The smile on his face gave you a hum inside your chest and a grin on your own lips, and he waved before driving off. Turning to your house, you noticed that the Winchester house was still dark, and yours was much the same; not unusual for the late hour.

As you walked up to the porch, a noise caught your attention, and you frowned, stepping around to the side of your house, wondering if Crowley had gotten out and was catching rats. But there was no sign of the black cat as you moved further towards the back yard.

A light shone, dim in the blackness, illuminating the tree house from the inside. Keeping your steps quiet, you approached, hearing low singing coming from the wooden structure. 

“Dean?” you called, your voice low. The singing stopped, and you frowned, kicking off your less than sensible shoes to climb the ladder. Your suspicions were confirmed when you spotted Dean, in the corner, a small camping lamp the source of the light. “What are you doing up here?” you asked, climbing fully into the tree house, tangling yourself a little in the long skirt of your dress.

“Thinking,” he replied, his voice harsh. He raised his eyes to look at you, and you saw the swell of his throat bob as he swallowed. “You… you look beautiful,” he muttered, dragging his gaze away.

“Thank you.” You crawled across the wooden floorboards, sitting next to him, but not touching. “Thinking about what?”

Dean didn’t answer, staring off out of the hole that functioned as a window. It was a nice view, over the houses that curved into the little valley of Lawrence, and twinkling lights filled the horizon. 

You leaned in a little, nudging him. “Dean?” The repeat of his name seemed to jar him out of his thoughts. “You can talk to me, you know?” He turned, slowly turning his eyes on you. You didn’t miss the way his gaze dropped for a second, taking in the new adornment on your arm, and you waited, wondering what had gotten him into this state.

There was no warning for his actions, no prelude to the kiss he bestowed on you. It was nothing like the kiss you’d shared with Benny - Dean was all tongue, teeth, demanding, his hands instantly hauling you into his lap. The lamp fell onto its side, rolling around the floor as Dean held you close.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, panting as he parted from your lips, but you shook your head. Everything that day was expelled by his touch, and you eagerly returned the kiss, grasping his face between your hands, feeling the stubble on his cheeks against your palms. He was already hard underneath you, the thin fabric of his sweats doing nothing to disguise that fact, and you ground down against him, moaning into his mouth. 

Words didn’t come to either of you as Dean’s fingers slipped underneath your dress, pushing the fabric up to bunch at your waist. He kept his eyes on yours as he pulled your underwear to one side, finding you slick and wanting.

“Is this for me?” he breathed, and you shuddered, unable to stop staring at him. His forefinger teased over your folds, before he dipped it into you. You were twitching with need already, and Dean bit into his bottom lip as he crooked his finger a little. “Or is it for him?”

It was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown on you, and you blinked, reeling back. Dean’s hold on you never waivered, and you couldn’t stop the involuntary reaction as he withdrew his hand from your pussy.

“Tell me,” he demanded, gritting his teeth, “to stop. Tell me that you’re all in for Benny now.” Speech caught in your throat, his hand still a warm and insistent presence between your thighs. “Say it, and I’ll leave, Y/N. I’ll stop. I won’t…” The breath he released was staggered and full of pain, and you moved closer to him, drawn to him like a moth to the flame.

“It’s for you,” you whimpered, bumping your forehead against his. There was a sigh of relief from his lips, before he was crashing into you again. Between you, you managed to get his sweats down to mid-thigh, too desperate to think about anything but having him inside you.

The second he slid home, the frantic movements stopped, and Dean simply held you close, breathing in your scent, his hands alternating between cupping your face and pulling you closer. Neither of you moved, and you whined softly as you felt his cock twitch and pulse inside you.

“Dean.” His name was a mewl from your throat, and he nodded, kissing you again as he started to move, guiding you up and down on his lap. You yelped into his mouth as his cock hit exactly the right spot inside you, repeating the sensation with every stroke.

“Wanna feel you come,” he groaned, his face pressed so close to yours that your eyes hurt from looking at him. But you didn’t want to look away. You wanted to be closer, needed more from him, and Dean seemed to sense that, grabbing your hips and thrusting up, until he wasn’t satisfied with the friction.

His arms encircled your waist, rolling you to the floor underneath him, and from there, he had the leverage. You ignored the wood biting into your spine, hooking your legs around him, uncaring that the dress was probably ruined. Dean slammed into you over, and over, biting at your throat and lips, muttering your name under his breath.

Both of you tumbled into ecstasy, your cries muffled by his hand, his groan quietened by your skin as he buried his face in your shoulder. You closed your eyes as you came, feeling the thick spurts of his come as he rode out his climax.

When he was done, Dean didn’t speak. He leaned on his elbows, looking down at you, pushing loose strands of hair away from your face. The smile on his face was more genuine than you’d ever seen, and you found yourself lifting your head to kiss him again.

You don’t know when you fell asleep. It was only the sun on your face that woke you. Everything was sore from a night spent on hard wood, and you blinked away sleep as you sat up, looking around in confusion.

Dean was gone.

*****

“Honey?”

The soft knock on your door had you looking up from your laptop, greeting your mother with a smile. “Hey, Mom.”

“Is everything okay?” She wandered into your room, stroking Crowley between the ears as he stretched from his position next to you.

It was a loaded question, with an answer you weren’t sure of. The easiest thing to do was to say “yes” and pretend that everything was okay, when in reality it wasn’t. Two days ago, you’d gone on a date with a wonderful guy, then come home and fucked the man who’d already damaged your heart in your childhood treehouse. To say you were confused was an understatement.

There was no help in the fact that Dean was nowhere to be found, and Benny hadn’t stopped texting you.

“I’m fine, Mom,” you replied, taking the coward’s way out. She didn’t need to know - didn’t need to worry about you. It was bad enough she already did and you couldn’t prevent that. “It’s just been a long couple days.”

She smiled, patting your shoulder. “You’ll feel better once you’re at work, and back into the swing of things.” Your phone bleeped, and she raised an eyebrow, looking at you with a particular expression. “That Benny again?”

“Shut up, Mom.” Your tone was warm and teasing, and your mother laughed, before backing out of the room.

“I’m leaving. He’s a nice boy though.”

That he was. And you felt twice as bad about what had happened between you and Dean when you’d returned from your date. Benny had asked you to go out with him again on Saturday, for a few drinks. He’d mentioned dancing, which made your stomach flipflop and your two left feet wilt in terror. But… could you really pass up the fun you could have with Benny for the heartache of Dean’s constant rejection.

It was clear that the elder Winchester brother only wanted one thing from you. His words meant nothing; you weren’t his, you never would be. You were just convenient.

That was the thought that broke your resolve, and you text Benny back, accepting his proposal for drinks and dancing. It was time to put Dean Winchester out of your mind.

Friday night wasn’t exactly hopping in Lawrence, and you decided to go for a walk round the block to get some fresh air. It was mild out, cool enough to require a sweater, and you were so lost in thought, you didn’t even realize you’d ended up in the small park at the end of the street.

There was someone up ahead, sat on a bench, and the smell of marujiana wafted under your nose. As you drew closer, a little wary of random potheads in the park, you recognized the culprit.

Of course, it was Dean. Couldn’t find him for two days, and he’s hiding out in a park like a hobo.

“Dean?” you called, almost mimicking the other night, and his head shot up. The grin on his face was wide, and as you got a little closer, you realized he wasn’t just stoned - he was drunk too. 

“Hey, Y/N!” he called back, holding out the joint to you. You declined, shaking your head, keeping a distance between the both of you. “What, you going all straight edge on me now?”

“No,” you replied, folding your arms over your chest. “But one of us has to be a responsible adult.” Dean made a “pish” noise at that, sucking on the tip of the joint, his cheeks hollowing and lips pouted in a sinful manner. “Why are you out here?”

He shrugged. “Got nowhere else to be.”

“Er, your house?” you suggested, and he laughed. “What’s so funny?”

“I get to live with the ghosts,” he muttered, suddenly sobering. “Can’t go anywhere without them following me.”

Worry welled up in your throat, and you stepped a little closer. “Dean, you’re drunk. And high. This isn’t good for you.” He looked up at you, his expression scathing.

“What, and  _ you _ are?”

The vicious tone of his voice made you recoil, and you fought against the tears gathering in your eyes. Pushing down your urge to fight back with your own hurtful words, you stood your ground. “I’m not saying that. At all.”

“I’m surprised you’re not out with Benny,” Dean spat, prompting you to roll your eyes. He was just looking for a fight. He didn’t mean these things, but he was hurting and you were the only one around to lash out at. You had to swallow it down, and help him, no matter your feelings. “Why don’t you just fuck off?”

That was the last straw, and you turned, walking away from him. There was only so much you could take from him, and he had to know that you had limits. As you strode across the grass, he called out, his voice broken and pitiful.

“Y/N…”

You froze on the spot, turning to him. He had moved, was on his knees in the path, and you could hear him sobbing. It was instinct to move to his side, lowering yourself down in front of him, forcing him to look at you with two fingers under his chin. “Dean, you’re making this worse.”

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, a single tear tracking down his cheek as he looked at you. “I’m sorry.” Before you could react, he had his arms around you, his face pressed against your chest, and you relaxed against him, holding him close, soothing the sobs that made his entire body shake.

Eventually, you had to move - the gravel path was digging into your knees painfully. Dean followed your move as you stood, almost like you were his lifeline back to this world. It wasn’t what you wanted, but it was what he needed.

And how were you supposed to ignore what the man you loved needed?


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brief reader x Benny smut here.

**Chapter Fifteen**

“You’re leaving.”

His voice was hoarse, and you looked up from the kitchen briefly, before returning to chopping vegetables. “I can’t stay here, Dean. I’ve… I’ll make you something to cook for dinner later, okay?” The night had been hard on you both - after managing to coax Dean home from the park, you’d gotten him into bed, and for most of the night, you’d watched over him, alternating between napping on the couch and checking he hadn’t choked to death on his own vomit.

Morning had brought his hangover crashing down on him, and you’d forced him into a shower, before making sure he had enough to eat. The house was a mess, and you preoccupied yourself with tidying up, finishing just as he emerged. Thankfully, he’d put clothes on - you weren’t sure you could handle seeing him partially naked at this point.

“Are you going out with him again?” The question was quiet, almost making you strain to hear it, and you stopped chopping the carrots, glancing at him with exasperation.

“What do you expect me to do?” you asked, earning yourself a shrug in return. “Dean, I will do what I can to help you. But I can’t put my life on hold -”

“I get it. I’m a mess. Benny’s managing his shit a lot better than I am.” He wasn’t even looking at you now, focusing his attention on the photos that lined the kitchen wall, a thin sheen of dust coating his and Sam’s smiling childhood faces. “Fuck, I’ve always been a mess.”

“Dean, you’re not a mess,” you insisted, picking up the knife again. “You’re grieving.”

He scoffed, still avoiding eye contact with you as he plucked one photo from the wall. “I’m a fuck up. I mean, look at Sam. He’s done school, got married to a nice girl, baby on the way… and where am I?”

With a sigh, you scooped the carrots up, dropping them into the prepared pan of water. “You were a lot closer to your dad, Dean. And you’re not a fuck up. You did good running the garage, taking care of your dad when he was sick -”

“Couldn’t stop him dying,” Dean spat.

“No one could have,” you pointed out, and he huffed. “You need to stop putting yourself down. There’s plenty about you that you could improve on, yeah, but as you are? You’re just in a bad place. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

He turned, focusing hazy green eyes on you. “Then why do I keep hurting you?” he asked, and you felt like bursting into tears. Swallowing the urge down, you shook your head. “I’m dragging you down with me. Look at what I did to you.”

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t ask for.” You paused, feeling the heat in your cheeks. “Or enjoy.”

Dean’s expression was flat as he watched you turn away, keeping your attention on cooking. “I shouldn’t… god, why are you even helping me?”

“Because we’re friends,” you replied, automatically, like the answer was programmed in as a response. You didn’t see the look on his face as you kept your back to him. “We’re neighbors. Practically family. And you need someone. Just so happens, I’m here.”

There were unspoken words on his lips, but he didn’t say them, and a few moments, you heard his footsteps pad away to the living room. It wouldn’t do any good to go after him, so you finished preparing food for him, making a mental note to get him some groceries at some point, before announcing that you were leaving.

“Whatever” was his only answer, and you calmed the rage at his attitude. He was all over the place - one moment crying, the next angry at everything and everyone, including himself. And what he really needed was time. You’d have to call Bobby to come over and knock some sense into him.

You didn’t tell him that you’d pop in later to check on him. And you didn’t tell Benny about your intention to do so either. All through your date, you laughed and smiled and pretended you weren’t churning up on the inside at the thought of Dean alone, while you stole kisses from a man you knew you couldn’t love, that was just a distraction from the pain in your heart.

It was no surprise that you woke up in Dean’s bed the next morning.

And this time, it wasn’t a surprise to wake up alone again.

*****

The tone of Jessica’s voice indicated that she wanted to chew you out, but you didn’t have the energy to have the argument. She’d called with an update from her latest scan, and obviously, she wanted to know how you were.

Going back to work had helped, some. Having a focus that wasn’t Dean and his increasingly frequent drunken breakdowns was good for you. But on the flipside, there wasn’t anyone else able or willing to look after him. Bobby had tried, spending more hours than he should have keeping an eye on his grieving nephew, but even he couldn’t work miracles.

And you weren’t even mentioning the guilt. Somehow, you’d locked yourself into a situation you couldn’t figure out - Benny was still taking you out on dates, and so far, you’d avoided the physical aspect of the relationship. There’d been a few stolen kisses here and there, and you knew he was impatient for more, but too much of a gentleman to force the issue.

Whereas you were returning home every night, often waking up next door at the Winchester house, with an empty spot in the bed beside you, and the combination of shame and arousal at the thought of what you’d let Dean do to you the night before. Every morning had become a routine of finding the perfect outfit to cover the bruises he’d leave, although you noticed more frequently that Dean didn’t bother hiding any of his.

They were just more badges he wore, like his piercings and tattoos. Except they went unmentioned.

You and Dean hadn’t discussed what was going on between you. It was clear he wasn’t seeing anyone else, but he knew you were still seeing Benny, although he was aware you hadn’t slept with the other man. In his more angry moments, he’d fling the truth in your face, or spout hurtful words that he didn’t mean, but they cut deep anyway.

More often than not, you’d leave him in anger, unable to face the way he was dragging himself down, and taking you with him.

It had been going on for four weeks now. And Jessica wasn’t happy with it.

“You’re making yourself miserable, Y/N,” she said, her voice a little fuzzy on the other end of the line. “I’ve talked to Sam about it -”

“Jess,” you groaned, unhappy that she was unable to keep anything from her husband, even though that was how functional healthy relationships were supposed to work. “I told you -”

“I’m not gonna lie to him,” Jess admonished. “I’ve never lied to Sam and I’m not going to start now. He feels the same as I do. You need to let Dean get on with it. Let him do what he needs to do.”

You hung your head, running your hand over your face in frustration. She was right - as usual - but it wasn’t something you could do. “I can’t,” you admitted. “He’s… he’s so broken. And without me -”

“Without you, he’ll have to grow up and move on.”

“Or he might kill himself.”

There was a stony silence on the line, and then Jessica sighed heavily. “Sam is flying back into town next weekend. I can’t come - I’ve got things on at work that I need to sort out before the baby gets here. Just… try not to do anything destructive. Maybe Sam can talk him round.” She paused, and you could hear her breathing on the other end. “Goddamn these Winchester babies can kick.”

“Babies?” you squeaked, and your sister laughed.

“It’s just one. Trust me.”

Your phone pinged, and you groaned. “I gotta go. It’s probably Benny.”

“You should give things a shot with him. He’s stable, a nice guy. Good job…”

“No crippling alcoholism?” you added, receiving a hummed response. “Maybe. We’ll see.” You bade her goodbye, hanging up and checking your messages. It was Benny, as you predicted, and he was reminding you of your date that evening. He was taking you down to the lake for the Lawrence Bicentennial firework display, and he’d been dropping heavy hints for you to stay overnight at his apartment.

Maybe Jess was right. Maybe you should take the next step with Benny and stop the vicious cycle with Dean. As you stood up and got dressed, you stole a glance out the window, noticing the Impala was gone. You hoped he’d been sober enough to drive, but at least he was doing… something. In all honesty, you hadn’t seen him for a couple of days, after a particularly nasty argument that had led to some increasingly hot sex.

You were quiet on the drive to the lake, and Benny picked up on it straight away, leaning over to place one large hand on your knee. “Everything okay, cher?”

Mustering a smile, you glanced over at him. “Just… worried about Dean.” You hadn’t lied to Benny about trying to help the man you’d grown up next door too, and he seemed sympathetic to the other man’s plight. Obviously, he wouldn’t be so sympathetic if he knew you were banging him nearly every night, but you were planning on keeping that part to yourself.

“It’ll work itself out, sweetheart. He just needs time to grieve.” If only it were that simple, but you nodded at Benny’s words and tried to throw yourself into the spirit of the event. He held your hand all night, and bought you cotton candy at the stall, and you played the part, eagerly returning his affection.

When the fireworks were done, and you yawned widely, he asked if you wanted him to take you home, and you hesitated. Going home would undoubtedly lead to falling into the same old trap, and you  _ needed _ to make a break from that.

Benny was offering you the choice, without even realizing it.

“How about we go back to your place?” you suggested, sounding a little more sultry than you intended, and the effect it had on him was immediate. An almost predatory smile spread over his face, and he couldn’t get you in the truck quick enough.

Once he had you in his apartment, in his space, everything moved quickly. You were forcing the feeling, forcing the pleasure, and you tore at Benny’s clothing like doing anything with him would erase the green eyes from your mind. 

He was an attentive lover, and you eventually managed to lose yourself in his touch, coming undone with his face pressed between your thighs, your fingers curling in his sheets. It was easy to follow the script, to moan at the right moment, to gasp as he pushed into you.

But when he came inside you, you felt dirty, sullied, like you’d taken something that wasn’t yours and given it to someone else. Benny didn’t notice anything wrong, and simply cuddled into you from behind. Sleep was hard fought, and you slipped into dreams where things were as you wanted them to be.

You forgot where you were when sunshine hit your face, and you felt warm arms around your waist. Turning in the hold of your bedmate, you snuggled closer, smiling without opening your eyes. In turn, he held you closer, his warm breath tickling your nose. The sigh that you let out was contented, and his name left your lips in a whisper that was easily heard in the quiet room.

“Dean…”


	17. Chapter 17

Staring at the steam rising from the coffee was getting you nowhere. You sat on Benny’s couch, holding the mug, looking into the murky brown liquid as if it might hold the answers. Beside you, Benny sat awkwardly, just waiting for you to say something.

In the end, he had to break the silence. “You didn’t have to do that last night.”

You blinked, looking over at him. “I know. I… I wanted to.”

“But you don’t want me,” he finished, airing the words you wanted to leave unspoken. You didn’t reply, feeling shameful of yourself in front of him. “You love Dean.” Silence. How were you supposed to answer that? “I kinda figured.”

That wasn’t what you expected, and neither was the low chuckle he let out.

“I saw it, when you first mentioned him. How worried you were.” He shrugged, sitting back a little, more relaxed now he’d said something. “It’s hard to hide feelin’s like that. I guess, I thought I could change your mind.”

“I’m sorry,” you croaked, wanting to cry. Benny sat up again, frowning, rubbing one hand over your back. “I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

“Cher, you can’t help who you love. You gave me a fair chance, and I lost.” The smile on his face was sad, and you felt even worse for how accepting he was. “But you need to tell him. The actual words.” His eyes darkened a little. “Sex doesn’t show love all the time.”

You swallowed, a lump rapidly forming in your throat. Benny  _ knew _ . But how long had he known what a hussy you were being? Opening your mouth, you made to apologize again, only to have Benny shush you.

“No more apologies. You need to get your ass outta here, and go tell Dean Winchester that you love him.”

“How can you be so okay with this?” you asked, frowning at him in confusion. “You should be shouting, calling me whore, hell, throwing me out of your house, not making me coffee and offering me advice.”

Benny chuckled, shaking his head. “Y/N… I’ve been in love with you since junior high.” The admission stunned you, and you gaped, pulling away from him a little further. “I know, I know. I was the football player and you were the outsider. Far smarter than me, and way outta my league. But the way you carried yourself, how you were so kind to everyone… you’re one of the most compassionate souls I’ve had the honor of knowing.” He tilted his head, looking at you with soft eyes, the crinkled lines around the edges of them making him look more distinguished. “And I would be lucky to have you as a friend.”

“But you want more,” you whispered. “And I can’t…”

“Don’t get me wrong - I could make you very happy, cher. I would give the world to spend my life with someone as amazin’ as you are.” The words were enough to make you want to cry all over again but you didn’t say or do anything. “But you wouldn’t be happy in your soul. And I can’t make you feel anything for me.”

“I feel something,” you insisted. “Just not… not that kind of love.”

He nodded, glancing away with a little sniff of laughter. “At least tell me I was good in bed?” The joke made you giggle, and he pulled you into a hug. “Finish your coffee. I’ll drive you home.”

*****

It was still earlier when Benny’s truck pulled up to your house, and you were grateful no one was there to witness your walk of shame, albeit a short one. The Impala was in the driveway next door, and you sighed in relief, even as Benny’s truck made too much noise pulling away.

Inside your house, you showered and changed, hoping to god your parents knew you hadn’t come home. They may have even assumed that you were over at Dean’s, because you’d been there so much recently.

As you plodded down the stairs, intending on heading straight over to the Winchester house, your mom called your name. “Aren’t you stopping for breakfast?” she called, frowning as she followed you downstairs. “You only just got in.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, trying not to act like you’d gotten caught. “I, er -”

“Where are you off to now?” she asked, frowning and you instantly felt like something was wrong. 

“I’m gonna go check on Dean,” you said, backing up quickly.

Her face changed, but you turned too quickly, missing the worried expression on her face. “Y/N, wait -”

You didn’t stop to catch her words, throwing back an assurance that you’d eat later. At the moment, you weren’t hungry, you just wanted to see Dean, confess to him, tell him everything. No more lies, no more secrets, everything out in the open.

Raising your hand to knock on the door, foregoing the spare key for a change, you sucked in a nervous breath as footsteps tapped over the floor, approaching you. They sounded odd… lighter… more like… heels…

The door opened and you tried not to gasp as you laid eyes on a face you hadn’t seen in over ten years, and she smiled at you brightly. “Y/N!”

“L-lisa.” God, you couldn’t keep the stutter out of your voice. Why was she here? Why was she in Dean’s house? Why was she answering his door? “I wasn’t expecting to see you -”

Lisa laughed loudly, and you curled your fist behind your back, imagining the way her nose would crunch if you slammed your fist into it. She’d probably scream, and you’d be so satisfied that you’d bruised her goddamn pretty face. But you resisted the urge, waiting for her to explain. “Dean came and got us yesterday.”

“Us?” you repeated, unsure of what she meant.

“Me and Ben.” The sweet smile on her face would have looked better if you’d caved her teeth in. “He’s such a good dad, isn’t he? I called him and he just came to get us.”

You couldn’t help your eyes narrowing. “Where’s Dean?”

She batted her eyelashes. “Sleeping, sweetie. Poor thing has been so down. He needs to rest. I can give him a message though?”

It wasn’t her house. It wasn’t her place. She had no right waltzing in and taking care of him when you’d been doing it for so long. He wasn’t hers.

But he wasn’t yours either.

“No. I was just, you know, checking in.” You forced a smile onto your face, and backed away. Lisa just cocked her head, smiling innocently, but you knew she couldn’t be trusted. Since kindergarten, Lisa Braeden had been a bitch, and behavior like that didn’t change.

You didn’t want to try and figure out what she meant by Dean being a good dad. As far as you’d known, Ben wasn’t his.

“See you later,” Lisa cooed, and it took everything you had not to run back and pummel the shit out of her. Tossing back a half-hearted wave, you jogged back to your house.

The tears didn’t fall until the door was shut.

Your mom was stood in the kitchen as you ran in, instantly seeking out the comfort of your parent. She threw her arms around you, shushing you, rubbing your back in gentle circles like she did when you were young and had the flu. The sobs were hard enough to hurt your chest, and you didn’t want to face the world ever again.

“I tried to warn you,” your mother started, rocking you from side to side. “Dean drove to get her yesterday. Apparently she called him, said she was in danger. And she’s got papers from a DNA test to prove Ben is his son. She says John told her to lie to Dean because he didn’t like her.”

You reared back, staring at her, face filled with shock. “John wouldn’t do that.”

“That’s what I said,” your father said, walking into the room, almost shuffling in his tiredness. “But she’s a skilled liar, and Dean just ate it up.”

“So she’s what, living there now?”

Your mother sighed and your father shrugged, walking over to the both of you. “Dean’s not right in the head at the moment. He’s lonely. Sam’s moved away, John’s gone, Mary’s gone… he doesn’t feel like he has anyone.”

“He has me!” you cried, pulling away from your mom’s hold, before what you’d said had sunk in. “Us. He has us,” you amended, wiping at your eyes. 

“Did you tell him that?” your mother asked, watching you carefully. “Explicitly? We all know how dense men are.” She glanced at your dad. “No offense, dear.”

“None taken,” he quipped. “Men are pretty useless with hints.”

You smiled, and then thought back, realizing that you’d assumed he’d know, that he’d have figured it out that you wouldn’t leave. And then you remembered Benny. Of course Dean didn’t know - you kept going out with another guy, and you had only fought with Dean when you saw him, among other things.

Benny’s words came back to you.  _ “Sex doesn’t show love all the time.” _

And now, it was too late.

*****

Ten years had passed. And you still hated Lisa Braeden with every fiber of your being. Now she was living next door, you positively  _ detested _ her. Five days into her tenure at the Winchester house, and you hadn’t been able to see Dean, except for a glimpse from far away. Lisa had him under tight control, exercising her ability to flaunt her  _ everything _ . She’d flirted with the postman, passing builders, everyone who came to the door.

Yeah, yoga gave her a tight ass, but it didn’t stop her being a hell-bitch.

You didn’t see the boy, Ben, either. Granted, he was a child, and not in any way to blame for his mother’s behavior. But it made you curious. Did he look like Dean? Apparently she had the paperwork to prove he was Dean’s, but that didn’t explain why they’d stayed away. You were positive Lisa was lying about John’s orders.

Were they fucking? 

Was he letting her into his bed?

Did he think he still loved her, after all this time?

The possibilities were driving you crazy, and by the sixth day, you’d had enough. Seeing her smirking face everywhere was stressing you out, making you snap at everyone and you needed to chill out. You locked yourself in your room, sulking like a teenager, shopping online for things you didn’t even need.

“Sweetheart?” Your dad’s soft voice was accompanied by a knock on the door, and you stood up, opening it a crack for him to see you. “You need to chill out,” he said, sticking his hand out. In his thick fingers, he held a small, perfectly rolled joint, and you blinked in surprise. The smirk on his face was comical. “Take it. Don’t worry; your mom won’t miss it.”

“Mom?” you choked, accepting the joint.

Your dad chuckled, and walked away, leaving you to shut the door. It felt wrong to smoke it in the house - hell, it felt wrong to be taking  _ drugs _ from your dad - but he was right. You needed to chill out.

Within minutes you were out in the yard, climbing the tree house with your thickest sweater wrapped around you. Armed with only a lighter and your joint, you sat in the corner -  _ Dean’s spot _ \- and lit up, relaxing your head back against the wooden wall.

Three tokes in and you were smiling, feeling all of the tension flow out of you with the high. It was peaceful, and you opened your eyes to look out the window over the Kansas horizon. Lights twinkled back at you in the sunset sky, and you forgot everything for just a second.

Until you heard the back door of the Winchester house shut, and heeled footsteps down the path. You ducked down, so you could see but not be seen, and listened as Lisa started to talk to someone on the phone.

“I’m not so sure this was a good idea.” She paused, and you wished you could hear the other end of the conversation. “No, he’s just… he’s a fucking alcoholic. He said I could stay with Ben, that he wants to be a dad to him… yeah, yeah, he bought the fake results.” There was another pause, and she lowered her voice. “I’m trying, okay? That frigid bitch next door is apparently his flavor of the month. I damn well threw myself in his lap naked and he did nothing.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at that, even as you strained to hear her lowered conversation. The treehouse creaked as you moved, and you froze, hoping she hadn’t heard.

“It’s not that easy to get pregnant, mom. At this rate, I don’t know if he’s capable of even getting it up.”

Anger flashed through you, and you almost let loose a snarl. She was manipulating Dean. Trying to get pregnant by him. What the fuck was she up to?

“Look, the house hasn’t been put into his name yet. The business is, but the house is where the money is,” Lisa hissed. “You gotta be patient. He’s buying it, and I don’t think it’ll take long to convince him that I what he wants. Hell, if I need to go fuck someone else to get pregnant, then I’ll do that. Dean just needs to sleep with me once.”

Anger became rage as you listened to her finish her conversation with her mom. Every part of you wanted to jump down from the treehouse and kill the bitch, but you had to restrain yourself. You needed proof.

And you knew exactly how to get it.


	18. Chapter 18

It had taken what felt like hours the next day for Lisa to leave. She’d enrolled Ben in the local school, and you heard her shouting at him as they left the house. As soon as she disappeared down the street, you dodged over to the Winchester house, going straight for the spare key.

When you found the spot under the mat empty, you growled, annoyed that she’d probably taken it to stop you getting in. You knocked on the door, but there was no answer, so you ran round the back, finding that door locked too. The side door was padlocked, and you scowled up at the house, wondering how strong the drainpipes were.

It took longer than you wanted, but eventually, you made it onto the flat roof at the back of the house. Dean’s bedroom window was closed, but as you tugged on the bottom, it lifted easily and you sighed in relief. He was asleep, fully clothed, on the bed and he stank like a distillery.

“Dean,” you grunted, pushing at his shoulder.

“Go away,” he mumbled, throwing out one arm haphazardly, not even opening his eyes. “Just leave me alone.”

“Dean, it’s me.” He stilled, like he recognized your voice, and smiled, shaking his again. “Need to talk to you. The she-bitch is gone.”

Slowly, he turned, frowning at you. “What do you want?” It wasn’t the friendly tone you were expecting, and you crinkled your nose delicately. Dean rubbed his eyes, sitting up. “What time is it?”

“About eight. She took Ben to school,” you said, sitting on the bed next to him. “Why is she here, Dean?”

He shrugged. “Kid’s mine, right? Gotta do what’s right.”

“He’s not yours,” you informed him, looking him directly in the eyes. “She’s lying to you.”

The huff he gave was frustrating, but you’d known he wouldn’t believe it straight away. He stood up, walking over to his dresser, searching for something. “So what, you saw I had a chance at a family? Benny not giving it to you like I did?” A dry laugh left him, and he found what he was looking for, holding up a flask of what was most likely alcohol. “I mean, you’re jealous, right?”

You glared at him, wondering how drunk he still was. “I heard her. On the phone to her mom.”

Another shrug and another wave of irritation struck you. “She calls her mom about three times a day. She’s worried.”

“Dean -”

“Look, if all you came to do was shit on Lisa, then I don’t wanna hear it. She needs me.” The implication was clear.  _ You don’t. _

Except you did, and you needed him to know that. “Dean -” you tried again, but he held up his hand, shaking his head. “Please -”

“No! I don’t wanna fucking hear it! Get out of my house, Y/N! Get out of my life!” His voice rose, pitching into a shout, and you flinched, staring at him with wide eyes. After everything, he was giving up. Falling into the vicious circle he’d learned… that you’d taught him.

You stood from the bed, nodding as you wiped away hot tears. “Okay. Fine. But I’m not lying. She’s using you. But if you wanna be used -”

“You didn’t have a problem with it,” he muttered, not even looking at you, and you burst into tears - it was too hard to hold them back.

“I wasn’t using you,” you replied, barely managing to speak through your sobs. “I came here to tell you that I love you. That I was sorry, and I wanted to be with you. Not Benny. Not Adam. Not anyone but you, Dean Winchester.” You sucked in a shuddering breath, moving towards the door. “I’ve loved you since you said you hated my dollhouse.”

Dean stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the floor. You watched him, before making a noise of disgust and storming out, not stopping until you were back in your room, feeling like everything was slipping away again.

*****

The weekend rolled around and ended all too soon, and you did nothing but sleep. It didn’t fix the ache in your heart, or the empty pit in your belly, but you felt a little more refreshed when Monday started, and you headed into work with your dad.

He didn’t ask what had happened, and you didn’t offer anything up to him. You rode in silence, contemplating what to do now with your life. Your job was okay, but you felt the need to leave Lawrence again, rather than live next door and watch Dean destroy himself.

Lisa was going to break him all over again, and he hadn’t even had a chance to put himself back together.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby at five, okay?” your dad said, keeping his tone gentle, although he frowned when you simply nodded in silence and climbed out of the car. You didn’t wait for him, and headed straight to the cafeteria for a coffee, before locking yourself in your office.

It was all too easy to bury yourself in work. You’d done it before, and you could do it again. Obviously, it was the key to ignoring your train wreck of a life - you’d managed it in Phoenix, unable to see the crumbling relationship you were in. It could work in Lawrence too.

Tuesday and Wednesday were much of the same, with your free time spent in your room. It felt like you were a teenager again, avoiding socializing with anyone. Your parents tried to coax you out, but it wasn’t happening, no matter what they did. And eventually, they had to call in the big guns.

“Y/N Y/L/N!”

Jessica stormed up the stairs, all pregnancy hormones and sisterly rage, and you couldn’t get to the door to lock it before she was bursting in, practically glowing with life and… oh boy, she was pissed.

“Tell me, you did not let that whore move in with him?” she cried, and you winced, your eyes taking in the rounded bump of her belly.

“Shit, you got big.” It was the wrong thing to say, and you found yourself with an armful of sister. “Whoa, Jess, it’s okay.”

“It’s not!” she whispered. “You’re suffering, and I’ve been so far away. When Mom called, I was so worried, I took emergency leave and made Sam drive me down here.” She pulled back, holding you by the shoulders and looking at you. “You’ve not been eating. And your skin is awful.” Placing a hand on her hip, she cocked herself like a fashion critic. “This won’t do.”

“Where’s Sam?” you asked, frowning.

“He’s gone to kick some sense into his brother,” she replied, like it was no big deal, and your eyes widened. You opened your mouth to express concern at that, but Jessica tutted and cut you off. “But that’s Winchester family business. We have our own to attend to.” The smile on her face was bright as she tucked your dry, stringy hair behind your ears. “Making you look stunning so Lisa Braeden can suck it.”

In the space of a few hours, Jess had you dressed in people clothes, showered, hair done and make up on. There was a small fight about leaving the house for anything other than work, but she wasn’t giving you any ground, and you knew better than to argue with a pregnant woman. She insisted on lunch, and you both took a slow walk down to Harvelle’s, where Ellen greeted you warmly.

“Jessica! Don’t you look lovely!” The older woman placed a couple of menus in front of you. “And Y/N. Good to see you out and about.”

“Is there anyone that doesn’t know my personal business?” you asked, drolly, and Ellen laughed.

“Small town, sweetheart,” she retorted, before walking away. You arched an eyebrow at Jess, who grinned. 

“What?”

Lunch was a little more normal than you’d felt it could be. Jess chatted about baby names, the things they had yet to get, and you almost forgot that you wanted to hide away from the world. As you finished the last of your sub, your phone pinged in your pocket, and you frowned, pulling it out.

“It’s Dean,” you muttered, shaking your head, before moving to put the phone back in your pocket.

“Read it,” Jess insisted, catching your hand, and the knowing look in her eye made you hesitate. Unlocking your phone, you swiped over the message, opening it and reading the contents.

“‘Need to talk. Meet me in our place’,” you read aloud, before glancing at your sister. “What did you do?” She smiled, sucking on the straw of her milkshake, giving you an innocent, wide eyed expression. “Jessica Winchester…”

She sighed, releasing the straw from between her lips. “Dean called Sam last weekend. Had him get a complete DNA profile. Ben isn’t his. Not even a similar blood type.” The smile on her face was a contrast to your confused expression. “Sam went over there to serve Lisa a subpoena. She’s wanted in court for fraud in three separate states. She’ll be gone when we get back.”

Words failed you, and you simply sat, staring, wondering how and when your sister and her husband were going to take over the world. They’d done all of this for you and Dean, and what struck you even more…

Dean didn’t think you were lying. He’d believed you enough to get another DNA test.

Lisa was gone.

“Are you gonna go get your man?” Jess asked, excitedly. “Because I’m totally down for being a bridesmaid.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, barely registering anything except the fact that Lisa Braeden was out of your life, out of Dean’s life… and maybe now he would believe that you loved him, that you wanted him. It had taken so long to figure it out, that your hatred for Dean as a child had merely been the prelude to something bigger than both of you, that no matter how he appeared, metal pieces and tattoos and all… you loved him as he was.

Sometimes two broken people could mend each other.

Standing up abruptly, you knocked the chair back and Jessica clapped her hands excitedly as you strode from the shop. Ellen reappeared, confused by your departure, and looked to Jess for an explanation.

“Don’t mind her. She’s just going to get her man.”


	19. Chapter 19

**** You strode through town like you were on a mission. It took you ten minutes to walk back to your street, and the second you reached the bottom of the tree house, all of your confidence disappeared. This was the time you had to be honest, had to tell Dean  _ everything _ , even if he wouldn’t like parts of it.

Placing one hand on the ladder, you looked up, sucked in a big breath and began to climb. It seemed to take forever, but as you reached the top and hauled yourself over the edge, you sighed in relief, finding Dean in his usual spot, watching you with a crooked smile on his lips.

“I was wondering if you’d come,” he said quietly, spinning a lighter in his hands.

Crawling across the wooden floor, you avoided your usual spot next to him, sitting opposite against the other wall. The floor creaked as you moved, making you a little shaky, but you knew sitting so close would probably lead to little talking, and right now, you needed to talk.

“You were right about her,” Dean admitted, lifting his head to glance out of the window. “I’m sorry for what I said. I should have trusted you.”

“You did,” you replied, curling your knees up into your chest. “Even if you didn’t say it then, you went to Sam to get the truth. It was enough.”

A smirk rose on his lips, and he shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said those things.” Calm green met your eyes, and you couldn’t help but smile at him. “You’ve done so much for me and I - I treated you like shit. Like a convenience and you were never…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the lighter in his hands. “I don’t deserve anyone like you.”

“I wasn’t exactly an innocent in all of this, Dean.” You sighed, leaning your head back against the wall for a moment, gathering your thoughts, trying to make them into sentences that would make sense coming out of your mouth. “I should have told you how I felt. I should have stopped seeing Benny.”

“Did you -” Dean paused, sucking in a breath, almost like asking the question would pain him, and you knew what it was before he finished. “Did you sleep with him?”

You looked down at the floor, feeling like you might cry, although you had no right to. With a small nod, you whispered your response, and Dean’s jaw clenched. “I’m sorry. It was only once and…”

“And?”

“I said your name,” you confessed, and Dean fell silent for a few seconds. “Benny kinda realized that I didn’t really want to be with him. And he drove me back over here, but by the time I got here -”

It was difficult to say what you expected of this entire conversation, but you certainly didn’t expect Dean to burst out laughing, to the point that he was holding his sides, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Your lips twitched, and you allowed his humorous response to be contagious, neither of you stopping until the laughter had died out.

“We are such a fucking pair,” he declared, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hands. “I mean, look at us. We danced around each other for so long, when really…” His eyes met yours again, and you smiled affectionately at him. “I should have just asked you to prom. Hell, I should have asked you to junior formal.” The admission was a little bit of a shock to you, and you cocked your head to one side.

“Junior formal? That long?”

He sighed, nodding. “You thought I hated you.”

“I thought it was mutual, to be fair.”

“I never hated your dollhouse,” he informed you, dropping his knees so he was sitting cross-legged. “I thought it was really cool, but… when you moved in, and you wanted to be my friend - I’d only had Sammy until then. Then suddenly there’s this other family, and we’re being normal and to me, as a kid? It felt like we were supposed to be miserable because we’d lost Mom.” Dean shook his head, scoffing at himself. “By the time I figured it out, you wouldn’t even sit next to me in class.”

You focused your attention on your hands, unsure what to say to that. It hadn’t been that way for you - at six years old, you’d already been set in your ways and stubborn, and Dean Winchester had been public enemy number one. Okay, as you’d gotten older it had become less a case of hating him, and more a case of finding him annoying, but love?

It was difficult to pinpoint when that had started to blossom.

“I’d sit next to you in class now,” you whispered, knowing it sounded like the lamest thing ever, but it got a smile out of him. He patted the spot next to him, and looked at you expectantly.

“Then why are you all the way over there?” he asked, softly. Pushing away from the wall, you planted yourself in your usual spot, but this time, you were much closer to him; close enough for him to loop his arm around your shoulder and pull you into his side.

Like you belonged there.

“By the way,” Dean muttered, his mouth pressed against your temple. “Tattoos look sexy as fuck on you.”

*****

The afternoon passed by with idle chitchat, and serious conversation, mixed in together as you and Dean worked through your problems. There was no shouting, no arguing, and total honesty, and by the time the sun started to dip into the horizon, you felt more confident in the start of whatever it was between you.

It was only the start though - one afternoon was not enough to fix everything, and not enough to fix your own personal problems.

The temperature dropped as the sun went down, and you shivered, feeling Dean’s hold on you tighten. “You wanna go inside?” he asked, and you nodded. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“It’s like, there,” you giggled, pointing at the rear of your house, and Dean shrugged.

“I can be a gentleman. Unless you’d prefer me not to be?” His eyebrows wiggled in a motion that you supposed was meant to be enticing but just came off as comical, widening the smile on your lips. “Or are we a little past that stage?”

You looked up at him, unsure what to say. On one hand… you wanted Dean. You had appreciated his handsome features and perfect build since you’d hit puberty, not that you’d admit it to anyone. And he was probably one of the most amazing lovers you’d ever known - it was a short list too - but was this too much too soon, given the fragility of the peace between you?

“You’re not sure,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose into yours, and you hummed in agreement. “There’s nothing I’d want more than to have you in my bed every night,” he added, placing a chaste kiss to your lips, “but I’m not going to push the issue. Wanna...wanna do things right.”

His face was so open and honest, it made butterflies crowd in your stomach, and you nodded, scrambling out of his hold to climb down the ladder. He wasn’t far behind, and as he dropped to the grass beside you, he took your hand, holding you close to walk you around your house to the front door.

“Listen,” he started, taking your other hand to hold them both so you were facing him. “I would really like to take you out. For dinner.” He chuckled nervously, and you nodded, squeezing his fingers.

“You weren’t kidding about doing things right, huh?”

“Yeah, but don’t expect me to wait until we’re married to get you in bed,” Dean quipped, and you couldn’t help the rush of heat in your chest as his eyes widened at the implication of his words. “I mean, you know -”

You laughed, cutting him off and pushing up onto tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. For a moment, he didn’t respond; then he seemed to melt into you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “One step at a time, Dean,” you whispered, breaking off the kiss.

Reluctantly, you parted from him, leaving him standing at the bottom of the porch steps, and he didn’t move until you were inside. Through the screen door, you watched him walk away towards his house, a smile on his face that you hadn’t seen before.

“It worked then?”

Jessica’s voice made you jump, and you turned with a scowl to see her grinning brightly at you. “Yeah, you could say that,” you replied, gruffly, moving past her. “But I’m tired. So we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“Oh come on, you owe me!” she whined, and you stuck your tongue out, continuing on your way. As you walked into your room, you realized that Dean hadn’t said when he would take you out, so you swiped your phone from your pocket, ready to text and ask.

Before you could type the first word, a message came through, and you read it, smiling goofily.

_ Be ready tomorrow night at seven. X Dean _

*****

Dean in public, on a date, was a very different Dean to the one you’d gotten to know. For one, he’d showered and put actual clothes on, which was a change for the last few weeks when his self-care had dropped to extremely low levels. He’d gotten a haircut and color, which was a rather deep brown to the lighter blond you’d been used to, and he’d put the majority of his piercings back in.

All of that combined with the deep navy Henley and black cargo pants, made for a sight that was drool worthy. And it had shown when you walked out of your house, and nearly tripped over your own jaw.

Of course, Dean was too focused on the outfit you’d decided to wear for your first official date. The crimson, low slung top was enough to show a little bit of cleavage but not enough to be slutty, and you’d paired it with a pair of hipster black pants that were more for comfort, but accentuated your curves enough to have Dean hanging back to catch a look at your ass.

It probably didn’t help you’d put a little more a sway into your walk than you usually did.

The Impala was rumbling at the curb, clean and shiny with new rims, so it wasn’t only Dean who’d gone to the effort. It had been a long time since you’d sat in his car, and you lovingly stroked one hand over her dash, glad to see her looking more like her old self.

Dinner was a quiet affair - Dean had picked your favorite Italian on the other side of town, and you suspected your sister had a hand in that decision. But you didn’t complain, relaxing into easy conversation with him, both of you asking the things that needed asking.

When it came to Dean asking about what happened with Adam, and why you’d come home, you’d been honest. You’d forced the entire relationship, believing you loved the man, but as it turned out, he’d only loved you for what you could provide him. Dean glowered at that, displaying his anger in muted tones.

No doubt, he’d probably take your dad up on his plan to go and beat ten bells out of your ex.

He didn’t speak much about Lisa, only saying that he wished he’d hadn’t fallen back into that trap, especially when he’d found out her true intentions. It was obviously hurting him that he wasn’t Ben’s father - family meant a lot to Dean, as you well knew, and being given a son, only to lose him, twice over, was hitting him hard.

You couldn’t help but take his hand across the table, vowing to yourself that you’d do what you could to make him happy. The utter loneliness that had driven him back to Lisa would not happen again; not if you could help it.

As dinner ended, and Dean escorted you back out to the car, you shared jokes, laughing with each other, and you felt lighter than you had in months. Even when you’d been out with Benny, you had never been able to put Dean out of your mind, but being  _ with _ Dean… that problem wasn’t there. He seemed better, more focused, although you knew that it was a slow journey.

One you were happy to accompany him on.

“I had a really nice evening,” you whispered, leaning over the front seat of the car, and Dean pulled you closer, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was heated, hungry, both of you needing to be closer to the other, and you knew that there would be no waiting around for the next step.

You needed it. He needed it.

But there was something you had to do first.

Pulling back from the kiss made him groan in frustration, and he stared at you with a lustful gaze. “You okay?” he asked, concern flashing in his eyes, and you nodded, taking his hand.

“I’m fine, I just… I wanna go home with you,” you murmured, giving him a little smile. “But I have to tell you something first.” Dean remained still, and you could sense the anxiety coming off of him. “Dean, I… I love you.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Nineteen**

There was a moment, probably only seconds in reality, but it felt like it stretched on forever. Your heart thundered wildly in your chest, the prospect of further rejection too fresh in your mind, and you waited, everything in you on edge as he considered that small piece of information.

Dean laughed, like he was relieved, and pulled you close, crushing his lips against yours. Your initial reaction was to squeak in surprise but then he withdrew, pushing your hair behind your ears where it had fallen loose, the smile on his face reaching his eyes. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that?” he breathed, cupping your face in his hands, and you stared at him with a dopey smile on your face, and watery eyes. “Because sweetheart, I’ve been in love with you since fourth grade.”

“Did you even know what love was in fourth grade?” you replied, your voice quiet.

“I knew I felt the same way about you as I did about Oreos, and I  _ loved _ Oreos.” The comment made you giggle, and you leaned in for another kiss, feeling the heat rise between you. “Of course,” he added, nodding his head a little, “I definitely love you more than Oreos now.”

“Dean?” you asked, and he raised his eyebrows at your questioning tone. “Would you shut up and take me to bed?”

He grinned, moving faster than you’d thought he would, climbing out of the car and practically dragging you from the passenger side. You weren’t sure if your feet even touched the floor as he led you into the house, slamming the front door. The second the outside world was closed off, Dean had you pinned to the wall in the hallway, hands wandering up underneath your top. You pulled at the hem of his Henley, unable to tear yourself away from his kisses.

“Upstairs?” he grunted, parting from you for a second, and you nodded desperately.

“Upstairs,” you agree, slipping your fingers into his.

It took an age to get up the stairs, in between kisses and discarded clothing, and by the time Dean had you on his bed, you were down to your bra and panties. He was still in his pants, but his shoes and socks were gone, along with his top, providing you with an exquisite view of his chiselled chest, and the snaking tattoos that decorated his skin.

He stood in front of you, between your legs where you sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes dark as he watched you kiss along the waistband of his pants, your fingers dipping under the hem ever so slightly. You trailed your lips over the tribal banding that led from his navel to his hip, nipping at his skin delicately, before pulling back to look up at him.

“I wanna kiss every single one of your tattoos…” you murmured, your voice thick with arousal. Dean smirked, running his hand down your face. “But right now -” You stopped abruptly, tugging at his pants, his boxers falling with them. As soon as you could, you wrapped your fingers around his thick cock, pumping it a few times, prompting precome to dribble from his slit, and he groaned deeply. “I wanna taste you.”

The second your lips landed on the sensitive crown of his length, Dean’s head fell back. His fists clenched at his sides as you sank your mouth down over him, taking as much as you could on the first go. When he hit the back of your throat, you swallowed down your gag reflex, feeling tears prick at your eyes, and you sat back, gasping for air as you looked up at him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, dropping his chin to his chest. “Do that again.”

You smirked, repeating the action, taking more and more with each stroke. Dean was making noises that you’d not heard before, but that indicated he was definitely enjoying it, and on the spur of the moment, you cupped his balls in one hand, stroking over the sensitive stretched skin there.

He jerked and gasped, almost bending double as you refused to relinquish your hold on him, and it was only his desperate plea for you to stop that made you pull away.

“What?” you asked, innocently, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Dean practically limped to your side, collapsing on the bed, flat out and panting. His cock was jutting out, twitching as he closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath, and you couldn’t resist the temptation.

Slowly, you wrapped your fingers around him, pressing your tongue flat to the base of his cock, licking a long, thick stripe up the underside. His hips thrust upwards, and his fingers curled in the sheets underneath him.

“Y/N, you’re gonna make me come.”

You smirked, not stopping what you were doing, until Dean rolled away, his face flushed and eyes lidded. “Don’t tell me you weren’t enjoying it,” you said, the smile on your face enticing him even more. Dean’s lip curled upwards in the sexiest little snarl, and he pounced, pushing you backwards so your head was at the bottom of the bed, and you shrieked in delight, laughing as his fingers attacked your sides, tickling you into submission.

There was no need to fight back as Dean’s arousal got the best of him, and the tickling became caresses, showcasing his skill of removing your bra with you barely noticing. You were quite happy to drown in his kisses, whimpering and moaning wantonly as his fingers dipped lower, over your belly, to slide underneath your panties.

“Want me to taste you now?” he asked, the smile on his face equal parts boyish and predatory.

“Later,” you mewled. “Want you inside me.”

It was what he needed to hear, and he pushed himself up onto his knees, positioning your legs either side of him, managing to remove your panties in one swift move. You wiggled, letting him haul you into his lap. The tip of his cock nudged at your thigh, leaving a mix of his precome and your saliva trailed across your skin, and you made a noise that was either a cat being strangled, or your need for Dean showing through.

“You want this?” he asked, his breathing heavy as he used the leverage to rub his cock against your pussy, and you nodded, repeating the odd noise you’d made seconds earlier. It served to make him smile, and he leaned down, easing himself into you, and you gasped at the stretch as he filled you.

Both of you cursed at the connection, and Dean laid over you, keeping his weight clear of squishing you, using his elbows to balance. He kissed you again, thrusting his tongue against yours in time with the slow, measured thrusts of his cock, and you clung to him, digging your nails into the nape of his neck.

“Love you, so much,” he murmured, the words almost swallowed down the sound of your bodies coming together, and you smiled, arching your neck as he dipped his head to suckle one hard nipple into his mouth. You cried out, spreading your thighs wider for him, and Dean took the initiative, sliding one hand underneath your ass so he could fuck you harder.

Your orgasm blindsided you; the combination of his mouth, his hands, his weight, the force of his thrusts… it all came together in one swift hit to your core, and you couldn’t stop the scream that left your throat. Dean groaned at the sound, not even staggering his movements, swiftly turning his attention to your other breast as you panted and moaned and writhed underneath him.

Sweat broke out across your forehead, and your breathing became more and more labored by the second. The room around you seemed fuzzy, and you briefly noticed, before your eyes fell shut, that the Pamela Anderson poster was gone.

“Not gonna last,” Dean growled, releasing your nipple with a wet popping sound. “You got me too wound up, sweetheart. Need to fill you up.”

You wanted to reciprocate his words, tell him to fuck you harder, give you all he had, leave his claim on you with bruises and come, but all that you managed was a needy, desperate whine. His mouth covered yours as he twisted one hand in the sheets, the other moving from where he had hold of your ass, to between your slick bodies. You weren’t sure how he was doing it without breaking his wrist, but his fingers touched on your clit with the feeling of icy fire, and you were coming undone.

“Come with me,” he urged, the words distorted by his breathing.

Your throat was so dry, you were struggling to swallow, but that didn’t stop your cries as Dean gave one more hard thrust, his fingers pinching and twisting your clit to push you over the edge as his come pumped into you. It felt like the world excluded you and him was interrupted for a second, before spinning on normally.

He took a few moments to pull away from you, still interested in kissing your swollen lips, his hips gently thrusting the last of his climax into you. When he did move, he didn’t go far, collapsing to your side, and you immediately rolled to face him, not caring in the slightest about the slick between your thighs where his spendings leaked from your throbbing pussy.

No words moved between you as you stared at each other, sharing gentle, chaste kisses. For a change, there wasn’t any need to speak, and you curled into him, content that you finally had what you’d wanted all along.

It wasn’t the conventional happy ending, and it would never be a cake walk. But you felt like both of you were on the road to healing. And that was more than enough.

*****

The walk of shame the next morning was postponed on account of pancakes. Dean had gotten up earlier than you, although you were surprised after the night you’d spent not doing much sleeping. He’d made sure to wake you before he left the bed, not wanting you to think you were waking up alone again.

His instructions were clear - you stayed put until he came back up. And he brought syrupy goodness with him.

You picked up on his shakiness as he laid the tray across your lap, taking his fingers in your own and looking up at him with a gentle smile. “You want a drink, huh?”

He nodded, grimacing as he slid into the bed beside you. “It’s… a hard habit to break.”

“I don’t think you’re quite at alcoholism,” you said, digging into the pancakes. Spearing a piece on the fork, you offered it to Dean, and he opened his mouth, taking the gooey delicious morsel between his lips. Syrup dribbled down his lip, and you giggled, leaning in to lick it off. “You just need to take it one day at a time.”

“I shouldn’t have used it as a crutch after…” His voice lowered, and the pain on his face was clear to see. “After Dad. I’ve got myself into this mess, I -”

“Won’t get yourself out of it alone,” you informed him, with a mouthful of pancake. He looked at you affectionately as you smiled, syrup coating your lips. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. I  _ mean _ it.”

“You’re adorable when you’re sticky,” Dean retorted, returning the favor and licking the syrup from your lips.

The pancakes were discarded a few seconds after that, and you didn’t finish them until they were cold, and you and Dean had repeated the previous evening for the sixth time.

Getting dressed eventually became a necessity, as Sam and Jess barged into the house, demanding to know what had happened and why you hadn’t come home. There were congratulations and relief, and Sam had reprimanded Dean for leaving it so damn long to do what he should have done ten years ago.

“When are you flying back?” you asked Jess, frowning at the thought of her leaving, and your sister looked to Sam, chewing her lip.

“That’s the thing…” she started, taking Sam’s hand. “We’re not. Don’t get me wrong, we  _ love _ Topeka, but… Lawrence is home. It’s where we grew up, where we want,” her free hand rested on her bump, “our baby to grow up. And we want to be close to you. I don’t like living so far away from my best friend.”

You gave her a watery smile, before launching yourself at her, enveloping her into a hug that was firm but not enough to crush the precious cargo she was carrying. “I love you guys. I’m so glad you’re moving home.”

Dean clapped Sam on the back, gesturing to the stairs. “Your old room is still free?” he offered, but Sam shook his head.

“Actually, we bought a condo over on 62nd. Don’t get me wrong, we love these old houses but… this was always yours and Dads. I want to get a place of my own.” He nudged his brother in a friendly manner as Dean nodded, trying to mask his hurt at his brother’s rejection. “Besides… you and Y/N will need a place. You don’t want us crowding you.”

“We,” Dean glanced to you, “haven’t actually discussed anything like that yet.” The tone he used was a little sheepish. “Still on the ‘getting reaquainted’ part. You know, the prelude.” You smiled, pulling away from your sister to slide into Dean’s hold. “Don’t wanna rush everything and f -” he paused, knowing he needed to calm his language around his future niece or nephew. “Screw everything up.”

Jessica smiled and nodded. “You’re gonna have to work on that language,” she warned, wagging a finger at him. “But hey, you got a few months.”


	21. Chapter 21

**** A few months seemed like a very short space of time. In fact, the happier you felt, the quicker the passage of time became.

Jess gave birth to a healthy bouncing baby boy on the second day of September. He had decided to show up a couple of weeks early, but it brought the fall to Kansas with more cheer than usual. They named him Henry John after his grandfather and great-grandfather, and Dean joked that you would have to have a girl for his mom’s name to apply.

“Not until you get a ring on it, Mister,” you’d quipped back, taking the whole thing in your stride, overwhelmed with adoration for the newest member of the Winchester family. But your side of the joke caught Dean in a funny mood for the rest of the day, and it wasn’t long before you found out why.

You’d been living with Dean only a couple of weeks when Henry was born. As fall grew colder, Dean seemed to grow more distant, and you began to worry. You were certain he wasn’t drinking again, and you were still getting plenty of attention in the bedroom. But he was staying later at work, actually working from what Bobby told you, and it made you overthink everything.

By the end of September, you were about ready to call him on it, but he called you first, while you were feeding Crowley. He’d told you he was working late, so you were surprised to see his name flash up on your cell, just as it got really dark outside. You’d been working from home, so you’d had the entire day to seethe about how you were gonna chew him out.

“Our place,” he said, before hanging up and you stared at the phone like it had insulted you.  _ Our place. _

“There’s only one place that’s ours,” you mumbled, not quite talking to the cat, stepping out into the chilly night, glancing towards the treehouse. There was no wind, and you could clearly see hundreds of little lights surrounding the wooden construction. Curiosity drew you closer, and you saw that they were actually fairy lights, twinkling in the darkness. “Dean?” you called.

“Up here,” he replied, his voice muffled.

You frowned, climbing up the ladder, huffing a little by the time you got to the top. It was probably time you signed up to a gym. As you pulled yourself up into the house, you gasped, almost toppling backwards in shock.

Dean was on one knee, in the middle of the treehouse, a gorgeous diamond and sapphire ring in his fingers, offered out to you, all the while surrounded by fairy lights. “Y/N,” he started, visibly shaking with nerves. “Will you marry me?”

Your hands covered your mouth as happy tears sprung into your eyes, and you nodded, squeaking out a somewhat audible “yes” to his question. Dean laughed, and caught you as you threw yourself at him, allowing him a second to slip the ring onto your finger before peppering you with kisses.

“Yes,” you whispered, clinging to him.

The whole affair was quiet, and you married Dean on the 24th February the next year. In the end it had to be a little rushed, because there was no way you were going to fit into the dress you wanted by the following summer - one Christmas bout of flu, and your birth control failed. But neither you nor Dean worried - you didn’t care about a big fancy party, so it was your family and his, Bobby, Ellen, Jo and few select friends, along with Jenn who flew in specially.

Honeymooning was a week on a beach in a quiet coastal part of California, and by the time you returned home, you were about ready to sleep for a week. Growing babies was tiring, so Jessica kept telling you, although you loved taking care of Henry, who was growing like a weed.

But it wasn’t all sunshine and roses. Dean’s business had suffered a little, due to Lisa robbing him blind when he’d been too drunk to do anything, and he felt guilty about it. So he worked hard, and it made him tired. Arguments became more frequent, and you spent at least one or two nights sleeping in your old room at your old house. Everything felt tense, and the stress was eating at you.

And then your parents announced that they were selling the house, using the proceeds to set up a trust fund for their grandchildren, and going on a retirement road trip. It was a blow to your already crippling self-doubt, and drove a wedge between you and Dean.

The house sold quickly, being in such a nice neighborhood, and you worried about your parents, about not seeing them. Of course they had their lives to lead but what if they weren’t here when the baby was born? What if you needed them?

It didn’t take long for Dean to pick up on your stress. You finally reached your maternity leave date at work, and headed home, exhausted and frustrated. The house seemed empty when you walked in, and you sighed, wondering if he’d even come home tonight.

Plodding up the stairs, feeling like you’d swallowed a beachball, you opened the bathroom door to candles, a bubble bath and soothing music - your favorite Led Zeppelin album. On the toilet seat, was a note, written in Dean’s messy handwriting.

_ Relax. I’ll be home soon. Love Dean x _

The sweetness of his message had your worries melting away, and you stripped, climbing into the tub, soaking in the hot water. You’d almost drifted off when the door opened and Dean walked in, dropping to his knees beside the tub. “Your dad warned me about your penchant for falling asleep in baths,” he muttered, smiling at you.

“Good thing too. I was about gone,” you replied, taking his fingers over the edge of the porcelain. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” he admitted, and you felt a chill. “I’ve been an ass. I’ve been so scared, with the baby and getting married… I love you, but I feel like I’m going to fail you. And in worrying about it, I have.” He sucked in a breath, offering you another smile. “I sold the shop to Bobby.”

You blinked, unsure of what you’d heard. “What?”

“Well, I didn’t sell the whole thing. I keep a share, just enough to live on, and I’m gonna do some stuff from home out of the garage. I’ll pick up the occasional shift, but I want to be here. With you. I don’t wanna miss anything.”

“But Dean… you love the shop -”

He shook his head, interrupting you. “Not as much as I love you. And her,” he smirked, placing a hand on your bubble-covered belly. “Your maternity pay is good, and I can help out. I don’t wanna spend time away from you.”

Your eyes crinkled with affection, and you fisted the front of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. “You’re a sappy bastard, Dean Winchester.”

“You love it, Mrs Winchester,” he retorted, kissing you back. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick lately.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “You can make it up to me right now.”

“Oh can I?” Dean growled, thinking you meant in the carnal sense, but you had something else in mind. Something probably much naughtier. You leaned in close, pressing your lips to his ear.

“I really want Krispy Kreme.”

*****

Mary Margaret Winchester was born eight days late, on the last day of September. She was perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes, 22 inches long and 7.5lbs. A thatch of dark blonde hair explained the heartburn you’d suffered for most of the pregnancy, but you ceased caring about that the second she was placed in your arms.

You had to stay in the hospital a little longer than expected to heal, and by the time you were coming home, your childhood house was empty - your parents had moved into their RV across town, preparing for their long trip. Arriving home brought the unexpected addition of new neighbours, two friendly looking ladies.

“Hi there!” The blonde cheered as you climbed out of the car with Mary secured in her seat. “I’m Donna Hanscum, your new neighbor!” She were perked, and it was a little bewildering, but you took her hand and shook it. “Oh, who is this adorable little lady!”

“This is Mary,” you replied. “And I’m Y/N.” Dean approached behind you, smiling at the new neighbor, and you felt a little territorial. “This is my husband, Dean.”

“Gotcha,” Donna winked, just as another woman walked out of the house, a small boy around a year old in her arms. “This is my wife, Jody Mills. And this little soldier is Alex.” You relaxed, smiling as Donna gave you another wink. “We’re also the new deputies. Well, Jody’s the sheriff,” she boasted, just as Jody joined you and elbowed the other woman.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jody offered, shaking your hand and Dean’s, before noticing Mary. “Oh gosh, how beautiful. How old is she?”

Dean beamed with pride. “A week.”

Donna glanced at Jody, grinning widely. “Oh hey, they’ll be in the same year at school!” she exclaimed, taking the small boy from Jody. “Well, nice to meetcha. We’ve gotta unpack, but we should absolutely get together again. Have you seen this back yard?”

You nodded, blushing a little. “Yeah, actually, that’s my childhood home. I hope Alex likes the tree house when he grows up.” You tried not to think about what you and Dean had done in that tree house.

“Oh sure,” Donna gushed. “Alex and Mary are gonna be the best of friends.”

Dean coughed, almost like he was choking, and you stifled a giggle, nodding your head. “They absolutely will be.”

**THE END**


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